69 Sexiest Songs
by anonymouth
Summary: Minerva McGonagall-centred one-shots, both about and from her POV. Based on songs from a list of the 69 steamiest songs of all time. Currently features mostly Hermione Granger but will include other characters. M rated given the subject matter!
1. Chapter 1: 50: Til the Cops Come Knockin

_Ok, so I found this list online of the 69 Steamiest sex songs of all time. A few idea popped into my head, and so I have challenged myself to write drabbles/one-shots to fit with every song. Of course, in tune with my current obsessions, it is Minerva McGonagall-centred, and most of the ones I have written already feature Hermione Granger. But there is variation in pairings/ stories; the list won't be published in order, just as they are written when inspiration strikes! Hope you enjoy, I'm aiming to post one every couple of days, as a reward to myself for getting on with my dissertation thesis thing...fingers tightly crossed!_

_I haven't acknowledged for a while that I am still penniless and severly lacking the legal dosumentation to anything Potter-related...je suis trés_, trés _triste_ :)

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**50. Maxwell: Till The Cops Come Knockin'**

Hermione fell back on the bed, gasping for air for not the first time that night, or even that hour.

"You're trying to kill me." she stated simply, pushing the head of dark hair away from her over-sensitive mound.

"Where would be the fun in that?" came the wicked response.

They had been holed up in Hermione's hastily rented flat for days; losing track of actual time. The Battle of Hogwarts was over; the funerals were over, and they had just wanted to be. To feel something. That something had turned into hours worth of wild, wet, messy sex, which had softened into lovemaking, which had reared back into rough, almost violent meetings; which had then quieted to tender touches and gentle whispers. Hermione relished it, all of it, though she knew it couldn't last.

She roughly pulled her...companion? Lover? Friend? ...closer to her and kissed her thoroughly, their desire building once again.

They had slept little in the time they had been together; as if enough time had been wasted; enough snatched away. But Hermione awoke to soft rays peeping through the curtains and an insistent ringing and pounding in her head. Groaning, she tried to shut it out, but eventually caved, and with a snarl threw the covers off. She went to the telephone first, and was amazed to notice the number 55 flashing angrily at her from the machine. The ringing had stopped but the pounding continued.

She stood in the bedroom doorway, glaring at her...and waited until their eyes met.

"Get rid of them, whoever they are." Was the answer to the silently asked question.

"And if they ask of you?"

Hermione heard a sigh.

"Tell them that I'm not ready to be real again yet."

Hermione shrugged on a robe and picked her way through the discarded clothing and bits of food to the front door, hoping that whoever it was wouldn't just barge in.

Opening it slightly, she found two police officers and two men in mismatched suits standing behind them. _Muggle and Ministry,_ she thought, plastering a polite smile on her face.

"Are you the tenant of this flat?" the policeman began without preamble.

Hermione nodded.

"We've received a few complaints from your neighbours, regarding...uh...noise, at all hours of the night." He was blushing, Hermione noted with a smirk. She remembered one night when they had forgotten to set silencing charms, and one night where they had both screamed so loud that she thought they may have broken the sound barrier, never mind a flimsy charm. Putting on her best pout, Hermione looked him square in the face.

"I'm very sorry, officer. You know what it's like...celebrating a few things...we got out of hand. I do apologise...how embarrassing."

"Yes, well. Consider this an unofficial warning; any more complaints and you'll receive an official reprimand."

Hermione nodded, and watched the officers leave, steeling herself now for the ministry officials who had stepped up.

"Miss Granger? Gertrude Einar, Auror Office and this is Frank Goldholme, from the Ministerial office."

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"Problem?"

"Well, you've been out of contact for nearly a week now."

Hermione nearly gave an 'oh' of surprise - she hadn't though it had been that long - but managed to school her features into indifference.

"Yes?"

"We merely wanted to check that everything was ok...the neighbours seem to think they've heard screams."

She blushed slightly.

"Nothing to worry about...a party that got out of hand. Won't happen again."

They nodded, but still were reluctant to leave.

"Anything else?"

"Well, we were wondering what your plans were; when you would be returning to the world, so to speak. Only there are things..."

"Everything of importance was taken care of before I decided to take a little break. Understandable, I think, given all that transpired. I don't know when I shall return, but it will be before the end of the month."

They nodded, not satisfied but sensing they wouldn't be persuading Hermione to visit the ministry with them. The man from the minister's office stepped forward.

"Regarding Professor McGonagall..."

"What about her?" Hermione asked, her face feigning indifference.

"Well, she hasn't been seen in nearly a week; no correspondence gets answered directly, so we were wondering..."

"Her mail gets answered, does it not?"

"Well yes but-"

"Hogwarts repairs are still going smoothly, are they not-"

"I suppose but-"

"Well then _Headmistress_ McGonagall is taking a well deserved break from reality and shouldn't be disturbed, even if you did have a clue where she was."

An image rose in her mind, and Hermione had to fight a moan and a blush.

"Although you can be quite safely assured that any matter of great importance will come to her attention straight away, and she will be resuming her duties before the month is out."

After perfunctory goodbyes, Hermione returned to the bedroom, a smile playing on her lips as she slid under the sheets and pressed her cool body against the heated one snuggled in the bed.

She received a groan and a mutter, but nevertheless felt a hand snake around her to caress her hip.

"Whozzit?"

"Ministry." Hermione answered. She didn't feel the need to embarrass her...lover, she decided firmly...with the police visit yet. "It seems I am sorely missed."

The warmer body turned around and snuggled into Hermione, who could feel the heat penetrating her skin.

"You would be sorely missed if you left."

"That's what I told them." Hermione answered with a smile.

"Did they ask about me?"

Hermione nodded.

"Oh yes. I told them that Minerva McGonagall and myself were very happy ensconced in our shabby little love nest, thank you very much, and are far too busy giving each other multiple orgasms and eating ice cream out of a tub and off each other to even contemplate rejoining the real world just yet."

Minerva smiled, and sat up a little so she could thoroughly kiss Hermione.

"Happy with that, were they?"

Hermione beamed.

"Yes. They only ask that we keep the noise down."

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**Please Review :)**


	2. Chapter 2: 62: Ooh LaLa

_This one is mainly just based on the title/chorus of the song...thanks for the reviews/alerts so far x_

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**62. Goldfrapp: Ooh La La**

Bordeaux. A little alley outside of the only wizard club to still be opening, even if covertly and sporadically. Shoes thrown off in wild abandonment of the last of their decorum; winding down the alley, bouncing off the walls as much as they bounced off each other. Heat built between them as whispered words inflamed certain senses, further heightening their desire. Names were unimportant and dangerous; who knew what side one was on, in the harshness of daylight; one could be a Grindlewald follower, for example; the other perhaps a Dumbledore spy. It was just lust, and pent up frustration. They could be dead tomorrow, whoever they were.


	3. Chapter 3: 59: Do You Wanna Touch Me

**59: Joan Jett: 'Do You Wanna Touch Me'**

**Minerva/Hermione

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"Minerva, this is ridiculous." Hermione began as she stood in the doorway of Minerva's private rooms, the light from the outside silhouetting her.

Minerva continued furiously scribbling away by her desk, one hand resting on her temples.

"I'm busy." Minerva stated succinctly, not raising her head, although when Hermione pushed away from the doorframe and stepped into the room, Minerva's writing hand visibly picked up its pace, the words becoming even more of an unintelligible blur.

"You've been busy most of your life." Hermione replied. "But you always had time to sort out problems."

"Well at the moment, I don't." Minerva replied, the fingers resting on her temple tightening their grip as she acknowledged the fact that she sounded like a petulant child.

"Minerva," Hermione tried, as she fully moved into the room, the door clicking softly shut behind her. She took another step towards the desk. "please..."

Before she could get further, Minerva had violently pushed back from the desk and rose from her chair, which overturned, causing Minerva to aim a hearty kick at it.

"What do you want, Hermione?" she almost shouted, her voice raising an octave higher than normal. "I am busy, and if this is going to be a continuation of your insinuations..."

"Is that what they were?" Hermione asked quietly. "Mere insinuations?"

"What do you want me to tell you, Hermione?" Minerva shrieked, exasperated, wisps of her normally prim and proper hair flying wildly about her face at almost the same intensity as her hands. "That you were right, as always; that I have been avoiding you; that I have come up with excuses not to be in the same company as you; that I am fighting a bloody attraction to you?"

As their eyes met on the last sentence, Hermione saw first the shock, then the fear, then the fire leave Minerva's eyes. Minerva's hands flopped to her sides, and she turned away from Hermione with a sigh.

"Just leave, Hermione. Spare us both the embarrassment."

She flinched as she felt a hand on her shoulder, but it was gone before she could shrug it off.

"Is that what you think this is? An embarrassment? Bloody hell, Minerva."

Hermione bent and gently righted the chair.

"I don't want you to say those things because you think that it's what I want to hear. I just want an honest answer as to why, in the last year, you have come up with an excuse to avoid every single Weasley party; every Ministry function that you could delegate; and every informal, casual invite that I would be present at. And don't tell me that I'm imagining things. I was born ugly, not stupid."

"You are not ugly." Minerva said automatically, to which Hermione smiled softly.

"Matter of opinion. Anyway, I really want to know, because the only plausible reasoning is that you cannot stand to be around me anymore, and that...well, it breaks my heart. I have come to...um...care a great deal for you, Minerva McGonagall, and I miss you."

After a moment's silence, Minerva whispered, her voice full of emotion, "I can't stand to be around you."

Hermione nodded softly, a dazed, confused, hurt look on her face. She couldn't wrap her tongue around the word why; it stuck to her suddenly dry, tight throat. She stumbled backwards, determined to reach the door before the sobs broke free, but she stopped as Minerva's voice sliced through the deathly quiet of the room.

"I miss you, but I can't be around you, and it's tearing me apart."

Finally, before she could stop it, the word left her lips, almost unbidden, a hoarse whisper in contrast to Minerva's feminine one.

"Why?"

Minerva snorted, though it could have been a sob, and Hermione saw her hands come up to cover her face.

"Do you really have to ask, Hermione?"

The silence in the room became full of tension, as Hermione, for once in her life struggled to find a response.

Minerva laughed bitterly.

"Merlin, what a mess. I told you to leave, Hermione. I never wanted this to happen."

The last sentence came out as a whisper as Minerva wrapped her arms around herself. Hermione chewed her bottom lip, then took a deep, shaky breath.

"You never wanted to tell me?"

Minerva pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Yes...no...please, just stop, before..."

"Before what? You think you ruin everything? Before I run out and never speak to you again? How old do you think I am?"

"Not old enough."

Hermione took a decisive step forward and reached out to brush Minerva's hands with her own. Taking a hold of one, she tugged gently but firmly, and breathed a sigh as Minerva finally gave in and turned around.

"Oh, Minerva. I am old enough to know my own mind."

At this, Minerva did laugh, and though she would not meet Hermione's eyes, Hermione saw the bright shimmer in them before a stray tear escaped.

"Well then teach me how, because I have walked this planet for decades longer than you, and now I'm not sure I am old enough to know my mind anymore."

Hermione entwined her fingers with Minerva's, who to her relief but also to add to her nervousness did not pull away.

"Of course you are. You're just not brave enough to listen to it."

"Hermione..."

Hermione cut her off with a squeeze to her hands and a tug, which caused Minerva to stumble closer to her. Slowly, almost hesitantly, she let go of Minerva's hands and brought her arms up to wind around Minerva's waist and rest on her back. She stepped into the embrace she had created, and rested her chin delicately on Minerva's collarbone. She breathed out, and felt Minerva's heart quicken and her breathing hitch.

"Can you feel this?" Hermione asked softly.

Minerva's eyes squeezed shut as she finally allowed her arms to raise and rest on Hermione's back.

"You're shaking." Hermione stated.

"Aren't you?"

"Yes." she whispered, her lips resting against Minerva's neck. "Because I want you. But I want you to want me. Do you want me, Minerva?"

Minerva sobbed, her arms involuntarily tightening their grip, pulling Hermione closer to her.

"Yes." came the halting, fractured response.

Hermione worked one hand into Minerva's not-so-severely-pinned bun, eliciting a gasp from the other woman.

"Do you want this?" Hermione asked as she lightly massaged Minerva's head.

"Yes."

She pressed a light kiss against Minerva's neck, feeling the racing pulse underneath the hot skin.

"Do...do you really want me, Hermione?" Minerva asked, so gently that Hermione thought she didn't really want the question to be heard.

"I want every part of you, to be near you for the rest of my life." Hermione stated simply. "Let me show you...please."

She felt Minerva stiffen underneath her, and pulled back slowly. Their eyes met, both teary and filled with a myriad of emotions.

"Do...do _you_ really want to touch me, Minerva?"

Minerva's eyes bore into Hermione's with such intensity that she gasped.

"Oh, Gods, Hermione, yes."

Hermione reached around to grasp Minerva's hand.

"Where?"

Minerva smiled softly, though Hermione still saw the trace of apprehension in her eyes.

"Show me?" Hermione asked gingerly as she brought her hand entwined with Minerva's to hold between their bodies.

Minerva brushed Hermione's cheek with her free hand, before their entwined hands began to move, inching tortuously slowly towards Hermione.

"Where do I want to touch you?" Minerva echoed, her voice meltingly soft and sweet. Hermione nodded, her eyes moving from Minerva's to follow the path of their hands.

They came to rest on Hermione's chest, both feeling the dull thumping underneath their hands.

"There." Minerva said simply.

Hermione's eyes darted from their hands to Minerva's eyes, searching for answers, hoping she was giving them, too.

"Thank God." she breathed, as she took Minerva's other hand and brushed her lips across the knuckles. They slowly melted into each other, all the issues surrounding them fading for now as they finally acknowledged the fact that their hearts had touched each other's long ago.


	4. Chapter 4: 66: What's Your Fantasy

**66. Ludacris: What's Your Fantasy**

**Minerva/Wilhelmina

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It had taken Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank ten years to finally get closer than arms length to Minerva McGonagall. Ten years of watching; observing; making tentative gestures; retreating; recalculating. She was nothing if not patient. Seven years at Hogwarts, watching her reject the advances of both male and female; she had always wondered whether that steely resolve crumbled during the holidays, when she was far away from the castle and all its restrictions. Two and three quarter years at university, twenty two years of age before Minerva McGonagall finally laid down her quill in the library one day, and marched over to her, one eyebrow quirked.

"I'll take you up on that coffee, now."

Ten years it had taken, and within ten minutes Minerva McGonagall had been naked and writhing in Wilhelmina's bed. Patience was a virtue.

Ten years, and within ten days they had had sex in both their beds; Minerva's private bathroom; Willa's shared one; the greenhouses (four); the rooftop of the tallest tower of the university; the dancefloor of a club; the cellar of a pub; and two beaches.

They had got messy with chocolate, and clean with numerous bars of soap; they had hurt with handcuffs and whips, and healed with scarves and massage oils.

And now, they were in the library, Minerva's most sacred of places (for Willa was no romantic; there was no place sacred left on Minerva's body anymore), piles of books stacked precariously around them, Minerva alternately muffling her cries into Willa's shoulder with grunts of 'watch the bloody books' as Willa's fingers thrust deeply and furiously into her.

No, Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank was no romantic, but even she felt a sense of sadness, a pang of longing when she realised that Minerva McGonagall had allowed her in, because she was shipping out. Going where, she didn't know, and it wasn't her business to ask. But she had waited ten years, and she would make damn sure that Minerva would enjoy down to the last ten seconds of their time together.


	5. Chapter 5: 65: I Touch Myself

**65: DivVinyls: I Touch Myself**

**MM/HG**

"Do you?"

Minerva huffed and rolled her eyes again at the question posed, though there was a hint of amusement in her tone when she replied.

"Honestly, Hermione, is it really that important to you?"

Hermione sat up straighter in bed and tightened the sheet around her. She blushed a little but still held Minerva's gaze as she responded.

"Well, not important, no big deal just...I want to know!"

This time Minerva couldn't keep the amusement from her face. She bit her cheek to keep from outright laughing at the indignant look on her lover's face.

"I'm not the one making a big deal out of it. Why do you need to know so much?"

"I don't!"

"Then stop asking!"

"Fine!" Hermione huffed finally and threw a scowl at Minerva before she crossed her arms and flung herself back on the bed. She stared at the ceiling, her lips becoming more and more pursed. Minerva chuckled as she too lay back into the pillows and waited, knowing that the other woman wouldn't hold out for long. It was mere seconds after this thought that Hermione's weight on the bed shifted, and Minerva once again found herself pinned by an intense gaze.

"Why won't you tell me?"

"Why do you need to know?" Minerva countered, shifting so that she too was propped up on her elbow.

Hermione twirled a thick strand of Minerva's hair around her hand.

"Because I'm naturally curious. And I don't see why you have a problem with it." she smiled winningly, and Minerva burst out laughing.

"Reverse psychology won't work on me, you know."

Hermione lightly slapped Minerva's hand. Minerva caught Hermione's hand and began to stroke it with her own.

"Are you jealous?" Minerva asked slyly, trying to hide her grin as she met the outraged eyes of her lover.

"What? Of course I'm not jealous! How ridiculous would that be?"

"It's ok for you to be jealous." Minerva said casually whilst twirling strands of Hermione's hair around her fingers.

"I am not jealous!" Hermione adamantly insisted, her voice rising an octave.

Minerva smiled gently.

"Yes."

Hermione let out an exasperated shout.

"No, I really am not!"

Minerva gently tugged at the curly lock she had twisted around her finger.

"No, I mean yes, I do."

Hermione's eyes widened.

"Yes you do?"

Minerva nodded.

Hermione smirked as she let her eyes roam her lover's body.

"How often?"

Minerva rolled her eyes, though they contained a twinkle.

"Honestly, Hermione, it depends. It's not scheduled into my diary."

They were silent for a while as Hermione's hands began tickling up and down Minerva's arm and side.

"What...what do you think about?" Hermione asked eventually. Minerva picked up on the hesitation in her voice, and quickly wrapped her arms about Hermione's body and rolled over so that she was atop the other woman. She buried her face in Hermione's neck and breathed deeply, causing them both to moan in appreciation. She let her hand wander down Hermione's side, caressing from the side of her breast to her knee, eliciting small sighs.

"When I touch myself, I think about you. Always you. Why would I need to think of anyone else?"

Hermione pushed her head back deeper into the pillows so she could see Minerva's face clearly.

"Really?"

Minerva dived to capture Hermione's lips, and when they broke apart, both sets of eyes were filled with desire.

"You are the most attractive person I have ever laid eyes on; when I think about you my chest hurts with how much I love you. And my insides clench with desire every time I picture you."

Hermione wiggled her eyebrows.

"Everytime?"

Minerva grinned and pecked Hermione's lips.

"Sometimes at the most inopportune moments. Honestly my darling, sometimes I wonder how you manage to function at all when you continue to parade yourself naked through my brain at all hours of the day."

Hermione laughed.

"Goodness, if the students only knew!"

Silence overcame them once again as they languidly stroked one another, until Hermione shifted so that they were lying side by side. She grasped Minerva's hand lightly, stroking the long fingers between her own.

"Show me." she whispered, grazing a kiss over the knuckles.

Minerva raised her eyebrows in question. Hermione slowly took Minerva's hand and stroked it over her stomach.

"I want you to show me. What you do...when you think of me. When I'm not here."

Minerva was about to object when her own hand, guided by Hermione's, tickled the short bristly curls at the apex of her thighs, and instead she gasped softly.

Hermione bent to whisper in her lover's ear, her voice sultry and tickling, her lips the ghost of a touch on her earlobe, mirroring the wisp of a touch at Minerva's wet lips.

"I want you to touch yourself. I want to watch you touch yourself...the thought of it makes me so horny. Please."

All protests had withered and died in Minerva's mind as Hermione's words melted her. When Hermione removed her hand, her own kept moving of its own accord.

Her gasp was mirrored by Hermione's as her fingers parted her lips and stroked languidly up and down her slit, teasing the moisture around her hole. Her eyes fluttered shut as her finger began circling her clit; Hermione's thighs clenched as she watched the movement of Minerva's hand, her eyes torn between that and the look of pleasure on her lover's face. Minerva's leg lifted as she pressed her palm flat against herself and rubbed. Hermione moaned as Minerva entered herself with her middle finger.

"God you are so beautiful." she breathed.

Minerva's eyes opened and locked with Hermione's, both sets teeming with desire.

"So are you." Minerva answered, her throaty, breathless voice shooting straight to Hermione's groin.

Hermione kept eye contact as she slid a little down the bed and lightly run her tongue over Minerva's nipple. The answering gasp and rise of Minerva's hips brought a grin to Hermione's face and she lowered her head to devour Minerva's breasts completely. Minerva shifted in order to grip Hermione's hair, holding her tightly to her breast. Hermione's leg slid between Minerva's, where she could feel the movement of Minerva's hand speeding up. Hermione lowered her hand and laid it atop Minerva's for a few moments, relishing the feel of Minerva's fingers slipping over her own, spreading her wetness. She managed to hook her fingers through Minerva's and gently pulled her hand away, eliciting a groan of protest. Hermione lifted her head and captured Minerva's lips in a searing kiss.

"I want to see you." she whispered.

Minerva's eyes fluttered shut and her breath escaped in small, deep moans as Hermione kissed her way down Minerva's body until she rested between her thighs. Hermione caressed each thigh until they were rhythmically clenching.

"Fuck Hermione...please."

Hermione smiled at the need in Minerva's voice, and the language that so rarely escaped the normally composed woman. She rested her head against Minerva's thigh and blew lightly at Minerva's swollen folds, causing the woman to squirm and more sticky wetness to coat Minerva's lips. When Hermione finally removed her hand from Minerva's, the woman needed no further encouragement; Minerva's finger instantly slid through her folds and found her clit, her back arching into the touch almost instantly. Hermione licked around Minerva's fingers, then withdrew to watch as Minerva's ministrations grew more frantic.

"Watching you...Jesus...you're so so gorgeous...so wet...fuck Minerva..."

With every word Hermione spoke, Minerva's muscles tensed more, until she was almost rigid off the bed. Hermione dug her nails into Minerva's thighs, causing Minerva to gasp. Hermione watched as Minerva's hand movements became jerky; she watched in awe and wonder as Minerva's muscles contracted and she became swollen; she watched as Minerva's soft tissue seemingly changed colours, and her juices coated her hand and dripped onto the bed, tendrils of stickiness connecting everything like a web. Hermione clung on to Minerva's thighs as Minerva came, her own hips thrusting inadvertently into the mattress. Minerva's shaky hands held tightly to Hermione's head, and overcome with a desperate need, Hermione thrust her tongue as deep inside of Minerva as she could, rubbing her nose against Minerva's clit. Minerva's face became frozen in a scream, until only moments later, her hips bucked violently against Hermione's face and the air left her body in a long, lusty groan. She pushed Hermione's face away from her, too sensitive to tolerate any contact with anything.

Hermione kissed her way languidly up Minerva's body, until Minerva grabbed her and pulled her close and kissed her soundly.

Hermione smirked as they separated.

"So...do you always enjoy it that much?"

Minerva blushed slightly, then smiled as her hands began to explore Hermione's body.

"Well, I will the next time...thinking about this time."

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**Bloomin 'Eck, this took forever! Hope it's ok...sex isn't all that easy to write, which I should have thought about before embarking on this 69 stories thing! I don't think of Minerva or Hermione as the swearing type, but some situations are extreme and just call for it so I hope it doesn't offend! Anyway...reviews please? :) x**


	6. Chapter 6: 52: Love Hangover

**Diana Ross: 'Love Hangover'**

**MM/HG**

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Hermione flopped down onto her sofa, burying her face into the worn fabric, relishing it's coolness. She had just resorted to a potion to relieve her throbbing, alcohol induced headache, and she stretched herself out fully, relaxing as she waited for the pain to ease. Apart from the headache, her body almost hummed pleasantly, her skin tingling as it brushed against her clothing. A lazy smile spread over her face and a slight blush tinged her pale cheeks as her fingertips gently traced her collarbone. Her lazy smile became a full grin as her mind once again re-enacted the previous day.

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_After managing to maintain a modicum of dignity as she hastened through the castle to the Headmistress' office, Hermione reached the door and Minerva McGonagall barely had time to stand from her chair when the other woman threw herself around her. Pulling back, Minerva got a glimpse of Hermione's face; the flushed cheeks, and bright, sparkling eyes. Hermione pulled away, bringing her hands up to her mouth and almost dancing on the spot._

"_Guess what?" _

_Minerva's eyebrows raised and she chuckled softly, knowing from previous experience that Hermione wouldn't be waiting for her to ask._

"_I PASSED!" Hermione squealed loudly, releasing her hands from her mouth and jumping up and down. "I've got a flipping degree!" _

_Minerva wrapped her arms around Hermione and spun her around, delighting in the surprised laughter of her lover. She squeezed her hard before releasing her hold, one hand moving to cup Hermione's cheek. _

"_That's bloody brilliant. I am so proud of you." _

_They kissed briefly before pulling apart._

"_What did you get?"_

_Hermione became mock-serious, and stood to attention, clearing her throat._

'_I am now the proud owner of a BA Honours degree in Advanced Transfiguration Studies, First Class with distinction in Magical Law Foundation."_

_As she neared the end of her declaration, she began to jump excitedly again and her words tumbled out in a rush._

_Minerva swept Hermione into her arms again, ending up jumping up and down with her, feeling on top of the world._

"_Well done, love! I knew you could do it! I am so proud!" Minerva finished with a whoop of delight that had the portraits joining in._

_Once the excitement had died down slightly, they embraced gently._

"_Thank you. I couldn't have done it without you." Hermione said as she rested her head on Minerva's shoulder._

_Minerva buried her lips into Hermione's hair._

"_Nonsense. You did it brilliantly by yourself."_

_Hermione shook her head slightly._

"_If it wasn't for you, there was a point where I doubt whether I would have finished the course. You kept me interested, and...well...you were just there."_

_Minerva squeezed Hermione lightly._

"_I'll always be there for you, for as long as I can. And I had no doubt at all that you would finish the course. Now..." she pulled back, "get on out to celebrate. Graduate style."_

_Hermione laughed. _

"_The lot of them are waiting for me at The Burrow. Ginny is threatening to show my parents the wild side of Ottery St Catchpole should I pass."_

"_Don't they know already then?" Minerva asked, genuinely surprised._

_Hermione blinked._

"_No. No one does yet; you are the first person I've told."_

_Momentarily speechless, Minerva's mouth formed an 'oh' before she quickly turned around to discreetly swipe at her eye. Hermione smirked and reached for her lover's face, kissing her gently on the end of her nose._

"_You were the only person I could think of telling as soon as I found out. Don't tell anyone else that though. I love you, Minerva McGonagall."_

_Minerva smiled softly._

"_I love you too."_

"_Joining us later? Or you could pop off early now?" Hermione asked, wiggling her eyebrows._

"_As appealing as an afternoon of celebratory drunken debauchery sounds, I'll have to join you later. I have ignored the governors for long enough."_

_Hermione nodded, her face showing sympathy._

"_Ok, then. Send us a message when you finish, ok?" Hermione said as she made her way to the door. _'Patronus me' _didn't quite have the same ring to it as _'text me'_ she thought, and decided to double her efforts to get Minerva to at least own a mobile. _

"_Minerva?" _

_Minerva looked up again just as Hermione came running back from the door to grab her, jumping excitedly once again._

"_I BLOODY PASSED!"_

* * *

Hermione laughed, her initial euphoria at gaining her degree mingling with the joy at Minerva's reaction. Her trail of thought was interrupted by a loud moan as something resembling Ginny Weasley entered the room and collapsed into a chair, only a mass of hair visible as she curled herself up.

"I am going to die!"

Hermione smirked.

"Suffering?"

Ginny groaned as she rolled over in the chair.

"Hell yes. Aren't you?"

Hermione shook her head.

"No, not so much. I had a bit of a headache but it's gone away now."

Ginny grunted.

"Not fair. You were the one supposed to be celebrating, you should still be comatose."

Hermione stretched, pressing her face into a cushion to hide her grin, giving Ginny a non-commital murmur. Ginny's eyes narrowed at her.

"Where'd you get to, anyway? I don't remember much, but I'm sure I remember you not being around when I did remember."

Hermione's face split into a huge grin before she could stop it.

* * *

_As Hermione threw back a shot of a lethal-smelling fluorescent alcohol, her eyes once again caught the clock. She wondered whether Minerva would have finished by now, would be getting ready to come out, or whether some unforeseen circumstance would keep her at Hogwarts indefinitely. She was thoroughly enjoying the company of Ginny, Harry, Ron, George both sets of parents, and the few other people they'd managed to pick up along their bar crawling, but her eyes were itching to see Minerva, her heart already swelling at the thought of her. She made her way to the bar, intent on intercepting Ginny before she could foist another concoction on her already rather merry parents, but before she reached the red-head, her heart skipped a beat and she frowned, instinctively flicking her eyes to the other end of the bar. What she saw made her heart skip, then a broad smile to appear on her face. Abandoning her mission, she made her way through the crowd of early evening drinkers to stand next to the emerald robe-clad woman sipping a clear drink. Without looking, Minerva slid a glass Hermione's way. Hermione smirked, and still staring straight ahead, picked up the glass and took a sip. She smacked her lips in appreciation._

"_A woman who knows what I like. Do you come here often? Because I may have to start making a regular visit."_

_She felt rather than saw Minerva's snort of laughter, but taking another sip, she met her lover's eyes with an innocent look._

"_I don't, as it happens, but after years of experience, I merely sense how best to encourage talent."_

_Hermione almost laughed, but managed to school her features. _

"_Oh, yes? You don't look old enough to possess that much experience. And what, pray tell, is the talent in me that you sense needs encouragement?"_

_Minerva took a sip of her drink, and though she managed to hide her smirk, there was a very visible blush upon her features. _

"_Perhaps I'm not _that _experienced. However, I do have a small...proclivity for teasing certain...charms out of certain witches."_

"_By attempting to get them drunk in random bars? Tell me, My Lady, does this work on all the 'certain witches'? If so, I wonder why one needs a charms teacher at Hogwarts if alcohol and a beautiful woman later in life is all one needs to succeed."_

"_There are charms that work upon beautiful women, my dear, that one could never learn at school...as you should well know."_

"_Oh, I know." Hermione breathed. "For I believe that if you had learnt your charms at school, you would have been snapped up by a handsome wizard or witch long before now."_

"_And what makes you think I haven't?"_

"_Well if that is the case, I would say that the witch or wizard is among the luckiest people in the world, though I would be unable to keep from voicing my disappointment."_

_Minerva smiled, looking at Hermione fully now._

"_Why on earth would you be disappointed, _My _Lady? You are, after all, amongst the luckiest in the world."_

_Hermione smiled too, then, and their fingers gently touched on the bar._

"_I'm so glad you were able to come," she whispered, but as their eyes met, Hermione saw a flicker of something other than love and desire that she had to question. "You still have work to attend to?"_

_Minerva's eyes softened as she realised that it was pointless trying to hide anything from her lover. _

"_As the headmistress, there will always be work to attend. But sometimes, it is a question of what is more important; balance. And delegation."_

_They both smirked and as their fingertips brushed each others they both gasped softly. _

"_Shall we retire?" Hermione asked softly._

_Minerva feigned surprise._

"_You don't appear fatigued, Hermione?"_

_Hermione finished her rather delectable drink and grinned broadly._

"_I'm not...yet."_

_Minerva knew she was blushing furiously, and glanced covertly around, only to discover that everyone was seemingly enthralled in their own conversations. Her eyes landed on the group busy toasting some comment of Arthur Weasley's._

"_Won't you be missed?" she asked Hermione._

"_Perhaps for a small while. But it's a question of what's more important; balance."_

* * *

She remembered how they had covertly exited the small pub, and had practically run to the nearest alley, with Minerva shaking her head at their antics, even as she laughed. They disapparated holding hands.

"Well?" Ginny asked, and Hermione knew she wouldn't let it rest.

"Oh, I bumped into someone from school. We got talking - university and the like. By the time we finished, I'd lost all track of time and just came home."

Hermione knew if Ginny were in her right, sharp mind, she wouldn't get away with this pitiful excuse, but it seemed as though Ginny's suffering was a more pressing matter.

"Sounds boring. You missed a great time," she answered, just as her stomach rolled and she made a dash for the door.

"I'm sure." Hermione answered, with no conviction whatsoever. "But I had a marvellous night."

She added this in a whisper, as her memories were drawn back to the evening.

* * *

_Carrying on their antics, the venerable headmistress and the sensible one of the golden trio held hands as they dashed through the grounds of Hogwarts and through the castle. Once or twice they almost crashed to a stop and one dragged the other behind a statue as they came across Peeves and Mrs. Norris._

"_She must be getting on," Hermione breathed as she poked her head out to make sure the cat had disappeared. "That confounded animal used to be able to catch Harry under his cloak!"_

_They stifled their giggles as they made it the rest of the way unobstructed to Minerva's rooms._

_They took a moment to catch their breath, and Hermione eyed Minerva with some concern, which didn't go unnoticed._

_Banishing their outer garments to her closet, Minerva caught Hermione up in a tight embrace._

"_I may be old, Hermione, but I'm not about to drop dead from a spot of gentle exercise."_

_Hermione laughed, then brought her lips up to meet Minerva's._

"_Well thank goodness for that, because I don't believe you have yet teased any particular talent out of me. And you seem to be a woman of your word."_

_Minerva brought their lips together. They moaned as they explored each other thoroughly, tongues gently dancing together. _

"_You don't seem to need much encouragement." Minerva answered, rather breathless._

"_No." Hermione stated simply. "I want you."_

_Minerva's knees went weak at the almost growled declaration. They made their way to the bedroom, Minerva unable to keep her hands from wandering over Hermione as she led the way. She stood behind Hermione at the foot of the bed, trailing kisses along her jawline, neck and shoulder, pulling down the strap of Hermione's dress as she moved. Hermione twisted her head slightly in order to meet Minerva's lips. As they kissed, Minerva fumbled with the zip of Hermione's summery dress, and she gently pulled away in order to let it slide down her body. Hermione gasped at the sensation of the fabric flowing down her body, then at the featherlight tickling of Minerva's fingertips down her arms. _

"_You are so beautiful." Minerva whispered into her ear, causing every inch of Hermione's skin to tingle._

"_And you are overdressed," she managed to reply, and summoning all of her concentration, she wandlessly and wordlessly cast the spell that she had been practicing for weeks. _

_Hearing a gasp, Hermione's heart stopped momentarily in terror before restarting at what seemed like double the pace when she felt the naked body of Minerva McGonagall press fully up behind her. _

"_Talent indeed," she murmured as she lowered her lips once more to Hermione's shoulder, and used the same spell to divest Hermione of her underwear, covering her breasts with her hands as soon as she was able._

_Hermione arched into the touch, her breasts pushing firmly into Minerva's hands whilst her rear pressed into Minerva's thighs, causing the other woman to bend her knees and push her mound into Hermione. Minerva snaked her hand around Hermione's waist, wrapped her ankle slightly around Hermione's, pulled her tighter against herself and swayed her hips, both of them groaning at the sensuous contact._

"_God, Minerva," Hermione hissed as the other woman straightened her knees and the wetness between her legs smeared along Hermione's cheeks. They both rotated their hips in tandem until Minerva moved a hand to Hermione's shoulder to turn her around. They immediately meshed their bodies together as their hands roamed each others backs, Minerva's hands repeatedly kneading the cheeks of Hermione's arse, both of them turned on more by the wetness coating them. _

"_You could have kept doing that forever," Hermione murmured against Minerva's lips. "I think just feeling you against me could make me come."_

_Minerva hummed appreciatively. _

"_I know. But I need to feel more of you."_

_They gingerly stepped back and Hermione sat on the bed, and eventually got Minerva to straddle her lap. She pulled back from their kiss to rest her forehead against Minerva's, breathing heavily as she let her eyes appreciate Minerva's breasts. _

"_You are so gorgeous."_

_Minerva snorted in disbelief, making Hermione cup her cheek and stroke delicately. They made eye contact and Hermione hoped that the love she felt and the honesty in her words shined in them. _

"_I love every inch of you, and I think that you are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on." _

_As she spoke, she let her right hand trail around to Minerva's breast, and gently kneaded it, feeling the nipple tighten and pucker against her palm. She saw the arousal she felt mirrored in Minerva's eyes. _

"_Beautiful," Hermione breathed as she rolled the nipple with her thumb. _

_Unable to answer, Minerva crashed her lips against Hermione's once again, and mirrored Hermione's hand movements with her own, until they were both writhing and arching against each other. _

"_Lay down," Minerva gasped, and as Hermione did so, she laid herself atop the woman, their legs intertwining. Both pressed their thighs firmly against the other's mounds, and as they began to rock the wetness spread on both their thighs, making them both moan loudly and increase the speed of their languid thrusting. Minerva bent her head to Hermione's breast, concentrating her mouth on her nipple so that before long, Hermione's hips were arching off the bed, desperate for more contact. _

_Overcome with the urge to feel more of her lover, Minerva abruptly sat up and grabbed Hermione's knees, pushing them up and further apart._

_Hermione looked at her, questions mingled in her lust-filled gaze. _

"_I want to feel you against me,__" Minerva explained as she gently lifted Hermione's legs and placed her almost dripping lips against Hermione. Already moaning with the expectation, Hermione lifted her hips until their lips were pressed together. Their breathing hitched at the combined wetness and heat, and when they began to slowly move their hips, their lips parted and they could feel their clits brush against each other. Minerva ground down into Hermione, her hands clenching almost painfully on Hermione's breasts as the feeling washed over her. Hermione reached down between them to further spread their lips, and as she brought her hand up to her mouth, Minerva had to swiftly grab on to Hermione's legs to steady herself. They were moving in perfect unison now, their groans and gasps almost perfectly timed._

"_This...this is so...hot," Hermione managed to grind out, making Minerva's eyes flutter shut. _"_Please...look at me," she begged, and as her eyes met Minerva's once again, their hips began to move in a frenzy; harder; faster; until neither could keep their eyes open any longer; Hermione's head slammed back into the pillows; Minerva's so far back she thought it may snap. They thrust violently, before exploding with such vigour that Minerva instantly collapsed onto Hermione, their breathing ragged, their hands fighting for dominance over any inch of skin they could find. They kissed passionately, until the need for oxygen drove them apart. Minerva slumped to the side of Hermione to allow cool air to reach them both. They held hands, though neither could summon the energy to do any more._

"_I'm fucked." Hermione half-laughed, half-panted. _

_Minerva laughed shortly._

"_I should bloody hope so."_

_After a while, they curled into each other, pressing their bodies as close as they could. Feather kisses soon turned into more, and by the time they fell asleep, every inch of Hermione, inside and out, seemed to tingle and thrum pleasantly._

* * *

Hermione bit her lip, her eyes and thoughts far away as Ginny's disembodied voice floated through from the kitchen.

"I'm grabbing a couple of remedial potions...you want one?"

She touched her fingertips to her lips; her insides feeling aglow. If there was a potion for this feeling, she decided she would always decline.

* * *

**A/N: I passed my degree! And this is dedicated to the only person that I had any thought of telling first; before my parents, my friends, my family. And even though things change - we can't go back, and things can't ever be what they were, or even could have been; we were this, once. I remember, and I cherish it, even if you think I don't. **

**Reviews, constructive criticism very much appreciated :) x**


	7. Chapter 7: 49: Turn off the Lights

**49. Teddy Pendergrass: Turn off the Lights**

**MM/HG**

* * *

Minerva McGonagall sighed in relief as she entered her private rooms and immediately removed her boots. Though the cushioning charms were more than adept, there was nothing like the feeling of releasing her feet to the cool air and natural plushness of her rug. She curled her toes into the thick wooly strands as she walked, the fire roaring to life in her hearth as she passed it to levitate her robe onto the stand, before she sank into a deceptively squashy brown leather armchair. She closed her eyes, letting the warmth relax her, and even when she heard footsteps approaching she didn't make herself move. She was pleasantly rewarded when she felt hands on her head, expertly releasing it from the severe hold of the pins and charm holding her bun in place. She moaned appreciatively as nimble fingers weaved through her hair, massaging and scratching her scalp. Truth be told, this was Minerva's favourite feeling upon reaching her rooms at the end of a long day, but unlike the removal of her boots, it wasn't something that she could look forward to daily, merely savour when it happened.

"You could make a living out of that," she sighed as she rolled her neck.

A throaty chuckle in her ear and a kiss to the side of her neck sent more shivers through her body.

"But then I wouldn't be able to be here to do it for you," Hermione responded.

She carried on with the head massage for a few more minutes until the headmistress was almost purring. With a kiss to the top of her head, Hermione stepped away.

"Was that good?"

Minerva moaned her approval.

"Just what I needed after today. Meeting with the governors would test the patience of even the kindest House Elf."

Hermione snorted and squeezed Minerva's shoulders sympathetically.

"Evidently. You're wound tighter than a root of Devil's Snare."

"Believe me, there were moments when I felt very devil snare-ish."

"Oh, love." Hermione stood in front of Minerva, who allowed herself to be pulled up into an embrace. They held each other tightly, hands caressing each other's backs and breathing in the scent of each other. Hermione gently pulled back.

"I have something for you."

Before Minerva could respond, Hermione had crossed the room and rounded the corner to the spiral wooden staircase leading to their bedroom. Minerva smiled softly before sighing.

She more than loved Hermione with every fibre of her being; they were a perfect match on many levels, but sometimes – especially on days like this, when she retired for the day overwhelmed, overtired and feeling every one of her years and accompanying pains – she dwelled on the thought that Hermione would be better off finding someone her own age, someone with whom she could share more of a future, who she wouldn't ever be disappointed by physically. Mentally, she would devour Hermione at every opportunity, but more often than not her reality was a gentle rebuff and an all too short snuggle before sleep. Sighing again, she mentally steeled herself before following her lover.

Minerva reached the top of the stairs, a soft crooning voice from the muggle stereo system greeting her on the landing. She felt her back pull as she took the last few steps to the bedroom and grimaced at the thought of her upcoming checkup at St. Mungo's before pushing the though from her mind. She stood in the doorway blinking, trying to adjust to the darkness and find Hermione before giving up and flicking her wrist, causing the wall lanterns to light. She entered the bedroom as Hermione emerged from their en suite, dressed only in a thin black camisole and a soft smile.

"Turn off the lights, Minerva."

"Hermione..." Minerva began, but she trailed off as the other woman lightly grasped her wrist, stroking the thin skin with her thumb.

"Please."

Minerva never could resist the word when whispered from her lover's pouty lips. She raised her hand again and the lanterns dimmed before petering out completely, leaving them shrouded in darkness.

Hermione reached up to brush Minerva's lips with her own before raising her own hand, causing candles to spring to life throughout the room. Hermione gently tugged Minerva until she stood next to the bed, and briefly kissed her before playing with the clasp of Minerva's inner robe.

"Why don't you get undressed and lie down?" she said softly.

Minerva stepped back from Hermione to remove her robe, leaving her clad in her simple black underwear, before she pulled Hermione to her and buried her head in her hair.

"I love you so much," she said, her voice muffled by the thick mop of sandy brown hair.

"I love you, too," Hermione replied, planting a kiss on Minerva's collarbone.

Minerva pulled back enough to stroke Hermione's cheek.

"I'm so tired, love."

Hermione smiled sympathetically and drew Minerva to her, inhaling the skin on her neck.

"I know. And I know you must be aching."

Loathe to admit it but bound by a promise never to lie to her lover, Minerva said nothing. Hermione pulled until Minerva sat with her on the bed.

"Look at me," Hermione commanded gently, her hand moving to cup Minerva's cheek.

Minerva hesitantly complied.

"I know you've had a long, hard day, a hard week even, and I thought that a massage would help you to relax. I love you, Minerva McGonagall. I'm not going to stop loving you because we don't have sex every night. I might be younger than you, love, but that doesn't mean that I'm constantly 'gagging for it'."

Minerva arched her brows.

"Obviously not my phraseology. Anyway, the point is, I know what you're thinking, and I _don't _need nor want anyone younger. I want, I _need _you, and on the occasions where we don't make love, I'm more than happy to hold onto you as we go to sleep, to read next to you, to wait for you when Hogwarts is a priority, and when you've had a hard day I want to do all I can to make you feel better. Even when that means going straight to sleep. I wish you'd believe me, because I hope that's what you would be like with me, too, when I've had a frankly awful day. I don't want to spend all of our time together convincing you that I really want to be here, with _you._"

Minerva searched Hermione's blazing eyes for a long moment before bowing her head slightly, a blush lacing her cheeks.

"A massage would be heavenly."

* * *

"Lie in the middle of the bed," Hermione softly commanded once they had both shed their clothes. Minerva did so, appreciating the increased heat from the candles in the room. She lay her head on her arms, closing her eyes as she felt Hermione's weight settle on her lower back. She felt Hermione shuffling, her breathing quickening as she felt her lover's naked thighs encircling her own and her hot mound pressing into her, before two warm, oily hands rested on her shoulders, moving slightly.

"Is that warm enough?"

Minerva murmured, already relaxing.

Hermione's face was a mask of concentration as she slowly kneaded Minerva's shoulders, and she watched, mesmerised, as Minerva's skin goose-bumped when she worked her way down her now unfolded arms. She rolled down her back and kneaded back up again, fingers ghosting over Minerva's sides. As she worked her way back up, she leaned forward until her hands came to rest either side of Minerva's head and her torso was pressed against Minerva's back.

"Is this ok?" she whispered into Minerva's ear.

"Slovely," Minerva almost slurred.

Hermione kissed as much of Minerva's neck and face as she could reach, smiling when Minerva's mouth opened to accommodate her increased breathing.

She lightly tugged on Minerva's earlobe with her teeth before straightening herself up to continue kneading Minerva's shoulders, grinning at the ghost of a moan she heard as she lightly dragged her nails along the heated skin.

Hermione shifted her weight and momentarily removed her hands to liberally coat them with more oil. She placed one hand behind her on Minerva's thigh.

"How's that?" she whispered.

"Go hotter," Minerva mumbled.

Hermione quirked her eyebrows and smiled wickedly. She shuffled slightly down Minerva's body, more straddling her thighs now, and held her wand over Minerva's buttocks, softly reciting an incantation until the desired scented oil began to seep out of its tip. Minerva gasped, the sound enough to make Hermione jump.

"Too much?" Hermione asked with concern, ready to utter a cooling charm.

"No," Minerva replied, the word oozing contentement. "Please, don't stop."

Hermione gently squeezed her thighs around Minerva's in acknowledgement and dripped a little more of the hot oil onto Minerva's backside. Placing her wand down, she watched wide-eyed as some of the liquid trickled between her cheeks, causing Minerva to squirm. Relenting, Hermione finally placed her hands on each cheek and began to knead slowly and deeply. She allowed her thumb to slip between Minerva's cheeks as she worked, relishing the suppleness and the extra heat emanating from there.

Altering her position to easier reach behind her, she held her wand over Minerva's calves, dripping the spicy-scented lubricant over them before working first into one then the other, noting Minerva's toes almost rhythmically clenching with her movements. She placed one hand back onto Minerva's back and rocked herself from side to side, one hand moving up and down her calves as the other worked her back. Hermione continued like this for a few minutes, until her rocking movement began an ache between her legs that was rapidly bordering on uncomfortable. She reached for Minerva's arm and began massaging her bicep, but as she made to swing her leg over to kneel next to Minerva, Minerva's hand gripped her knee.

"Stay there," she murmured.

Hermione half-laughed, half-moaned as she stretched out her body to place her lips on Minerva's ear.

"I promised you a massage only. You have no idea how much self-control you'd be asking me to exhibit if I stayed in this position."

Minerva's response was to buck her hips, her lower back applying pressure to Hermione's mound, causing her to gasp and squirm, in turn causing Minerva to moan as she felt wetness on her skin.

"As I recall, you merely said that you were content not to make love on occasions. This is not one of them."

"You said you were tired," Hermione retaliated, wanting to sound indignant, but instead managing to almost purr into Minerva's ear.

Minerva managed to turn her head enough so that the corner of her lips met Hermione's.

"I am. But feeling you on me ... feeling you wet now is tensing my muscles quite considerably. I believe that you need to continue your ... ministrations for the foreseeable."

Hermione's breathing hitched and her thighs clenched around Minerva's. She kissed her way along Minerva's shoulder as she languidly rolled her hips.

"So, you're enjoying this?" she murmured.

"Mhm."

With a last kiss, Hermione ran her hands down Minerva's arms as she slowly sat upright. She began to knead Minerva's back as she undulated her hips.

"And are you enjoying this?"

"Gods yes," Minerva hissed. She clenched her buttocks as Hermione pressed down, the younger woman in turn digging her fingers into Minerva's back as she clenched her thighs tighter, relishing the pressure on her clit. Hermione rocked her hips more forcefully, sliding on and between Minerva's cheeks before bumping her clit against Minerva's tailbone. Minerva's hands clenched into the duvet in rhythm with the tensing of her internal muscles.

"Do you have any idea how ... horny this is?" she gasped.

Hermione slipped one hand into Minerva's hair, working her fingers on her scalp in a way that she knew had Minerva almost purring.

"Do ... you?" Hermione replied haltingly, forcing the words out through her gasps. She leant down again to sloppily kiss Minerva, her breasts sweatily sliding against Minerva's back.

"Can you ... Can you come ... Like that?"

Hermione scratched her nails down Minerva's back as she once again sat upright. She thrust her hips more forcefully and that, combined with Hermione's completely positive answer caused Minerva to release a stream of incoherent words along with her thighs clenching.

The harder and faster Hermione rode Minerva's ass, the louder and more vocal they both got, and the more Minerva's own sex thrusted into the mattress. Hermione's movements became frenzied right before she stilled completely and let out a deeply gutteral moan, which was almost instantaneously mirrored by Minerva as she felt the evidence of Hermione's orgasm pool in the juncture between her legs. Her body became slack at the same moment that Hermione collapsed across her back, and they both lay intertwined for a few minutes as their bodies recovered, occasionally moaning and twitching.

They both shifted so that they could look each other in the eyes more comfortably, their legs entwined and Hermione's hand drawing lazy patterns over Minerva's back. Minerva shivered deliciously before she managed to free her arm from underneath Hermione's torso to pull her close for a bone-crushing hug.

"You are so incredible," she whispered.

Hermione smiled and kissed Minerva softly.

"So are you."

She shifted so that their torsos were pressed completely together before resting her head comfortably on the pillow.

"Now, if you don't mind, I am very tired and I think that it's about time you put me down and let me get my beauty sleep. Honestly, you're always gagging for it lady, when am I ever to rest? Think you can keep your libido under control for at least one night?"

Hermione managed a straight face for about a split second before she winked and giggled.

Minerva smiled wryly before snuggling down and into her lover.

"Point made," she mumbled as both sets of eyes fluttered shut. They both smiled to themselves as Minerva's hand made its way down to gently cup Hermione's backside. "Never any promises about the libido, though, even if you are too tired to do anything about it. On occasion."

* * *

**I am sooo sorry for the delay. I am a bad bad person. I hope it was somewhat worth it. Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and in case I lapse in updates again, Happy Easter! (I joke, I kid...unless it comes early!) :)**

**Review please and thank you? :D**


	8. Chapter 8: 16: Sex Dwarf

**16. Soft Cell: Sex Dwarf**

**MM/OCs**

In the Autumn of 1958, Minerva McGonagall hadn't been working at Hogwarts for even two years. She had learnt a lot – more, she'd venture to say, than when she was a student – about the castle, and definitely about her colleagues, some of whom had taught her and some, like her, who were acquisitions of the newly-promoted Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. But, at less than two years, she was not a seasoned Hogwartian, and looking back, it was this that she blamed for the position – positions, she always thought, gamely fighting a blush each time – she found herself in on the first of November, nineteen fifty-eight.

For example, Minerva McGonagall hadn't yet leant that House pride could – and would – come before a fall. She hadn't seen enough to know that the twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes heralded some form of mischief and a resulting headache for someone ninety-nine percent of the time. And she certainly hadn't spent enough time with the diminutive (or so she had set out thinking of him) Charms Professor Filius Flitwick to know that she would be letting herself in for far more than a tedious dinner party when she accepted the terms of his bet, never mind the fact that she hadn't thought him a betting man at all.

Ravenclaw were scheduled to play Gryffindor at Quidditch the day before Hallowe'en that year, kicking off the season a little earlier than usual, lending the castle more of a buzz than was normal in the lead-up to the feast.

Minerva sighed as she took her place at the staff table for dinner; she had just witnessed Gryffindor's last practice before the game, and the only thing she could think that would appear worse was if they put a herd of centaurs on brooms. The usual seeker, Cresswell, had been bedridden ever since an encounter with a backfiring wand left him the worse off in a brawl with a Slytherin, leaving one of the Chasers to fill the position. They employed one of the Beaters, Harkiss, as temporary Chaser, reasoning that it would be easier to find a substitute Beater, given that less training was required for the job. It was a good idea in theory; in practice it seemed that Harkiss could not contain his natural instincts and ducked his head, waving his arms wildly every time the Quaffle was thrown to him, resulting in Chaser-come-Seeker, Cassidy, abandoning his search for the Snitch to pick up his usual post, and the Beater-in-training, Fletcher, completely forgetting his job and watching the play avidly, frozen in the same position so that the Bludger could wage its destruction almost fully unhindered. Madame Pomfrey, the school mediwitch, had already despaired over the amount of broken bones the Gryffindor team alone had suffered, and was now, so Minerva had heard, petitioning Dumbledore for more stringent safety measures, or else a complete ban on the sport.

Fletcher appeared in the Great Hall, looking sheepish and sporting a black eye, and Minerva rolled her eyes. A complete ban would at least spare her the humiliation of watching tomorrow's game, she thought miserably.

"Not looking too good for your lions, is it, Professor?"

She turned slightly in her seat to see Professor Flitwick smiling at her.

"I'm sure they'll perform admirably," she responded, her dedication to her House preventing her from sharing her concerns.

"Oh, I don't doubt their enthusiasm. They do seem to be in... rather a state of disarray, though, wouldn't you agree?"

He continued spooning some peas onto his plate, seemingly oblivious to her rising ire with the conversation. She glanced around to see Dumbledore smiling at her, seemingly taking more than a passing interest in them, and so she felt obliged to lean towards defensiveness.

"They're a team, Filius. I expect they'll perform as such, when it matters."

Flitwick positively beamed at her, and she could see Albus' eyes sparkling.

"Care to make a wager on that?" Filius asked.

Minerva barely controlled her frown. Gryffindor would win, she knew, only by some divine intervention, but she was their Head of House, their champion... She groaned inwardly, but kept her features carefully schooled into nonchalantness.

"Given Ravenclaw's recent track record, I'm surprised you wouldn't rather save your wages for a consolation evening at The Broomsticks at the end of the season."

"Minerva, you are cutting. Of course, if that were true, I would look forward to spending it in exquisite company." He tipped his drink to her, leaving her in no doubt as to his meaning. She saw Dumbledore hide his widening smile behind his napkin.

"What sort of a wager?"

Filius took a moment to stare intently at her, to the point where she was about to fidget, or cough to bring his focus back onto speech.

"Oh, nothing major," he answered eventually, with what Minerva thought was far too carefree a tone to be carefree. "If Ravenclaw win, I request your company for a whole evening, adhering to the standard codes of the gathering."

She nodded shortly.

"And if Gryffindor win?"

Filius glanced at Dumbledore, who was following proceedings over the top of his half-moon spectacles.

"I think that should be the lady's prerogative, don't you, Filius?"

"Indeed. Name your terms, Minerva."

She thought hard, trying to think of something that could match the doubtless boredom she would suffer at whatever function Filius had in mind.

"If Gryffindor win, you have the pleasure of completing any and all paperwork pertaining to the position of Deputy Head, for a month."

She saw Dumbledore's eyes twinkle, and couldn't help but feel pleased with the terms, forgetting momentarily that she had but a Niffler's chance in a barrel of emerging victorious.

Filius gave her a small smile.

"Very well, Professor. I agree."

Dumbledore cleared his throat softly.

"Not to cast aspersions on your impeccably good characters, but perhaps you might consider making it official? It makes things a trifle more exciting, don't you think?"

Minerva could do nothing but agree, as Filius gamely held out his hand to her, which she took, allowing Dumbledore to hold his wand steadily above them until a gold thread had wound over and between them both before disappearing. She swore she heard him chuckle softly as he rose from the table.

"I bid you good evening, Professors, and I look forward to the festivities that tomorrow will undoubtedly bring."

It was with a sinking stomach that Minerva made her way to her rooms moments after Albus' departure. It wasn't Filius' terms that made her desperately wish for a victory; more, the small matter of her pride.

* * *

~0~

The next morning, Minerva brusquely made her way into the Great Hall, striding determinedly towards the Gryffindor Quidditch team, who were all huddled together at one end of the House table. Looking back, she thought that perhaps after seeing the way in which her appearance seemed to make even the six foot tall keeper cower, she should have amended her speech slightly. She had been aiming for rousing, vehement support, but apparently, as she later overheard, she had fallen more on the side of vehement lunacy, after descending upon them 'wild-eyed, like some sort of Transfigured blast-ended Skrewt'. Perhaps it was this, she thought after one of the most dismal hours of her career, that put the tin hat on Gryffindor's frankly pitiful performance. She had terrified them into failure. Not that they had been destined to succeed anyway. She refused to meet Flitwick's eyes, though he was sitting only a person away from her on the bench and was quite evidently leaning over to grin at her. She made her way down to the pitch and managed to clear a path to the Gryffindor team.

"Bones, please escort Fletcher to the hospital wing; Watson, please follow Cassidy to the Lake, before he throws himself in. Harkiss, a wand will rarely perform jinxes cast by its owner on its owner, so you may as well stop that now." She cleared her throat, and added, with a pained expression. "Good effort. I look forward to the next match, where you will, undoubtedly, have learnt a lot."

She walked up to the castle, leaving even Madame Hooch staring after her in disbelief.

Alone in the staff room later that evening, Minerva sat with a mug of steaming ginger tea, trying to aid the relaxation of mind she needed to mark the first batch of first year essays. She looked up when the door opened, and fought a sigh when Dumbledore entered, already clad in his absurd purple dressing gown, covered in floating silver, gold and red planets, and – she had to look twice – sheep.

"Evening, Minerva," he smiled, helping himself to a small china cup and filling it from a crystal decanter before perching himself in an armchair opposite her, crossing his legs neatly. Minerva tried to ignore him for several minutes, before she did sigh audibly and removed her glasses.

"Get it over with, then," she said, giving him her full attention.

He looked startled, and she eyed him disbelievingly.

"Oh, don't give me that. I know full well that you are about bursting to make some sort of comment on the outcome of today."

Albus smiled.

"Ah, a disappointing but not altogether unexpected result. I daresay that with the return of Mr. Cresswell, the team will once again find its way to the top. Most unfortunate that you chose to bet on this particular game, though."

Minerva almost glowered.

"I had a choice?"

"Ah, come now, my dear, you were hardly coerced."

Minerva scoffed.

"Between Filius and yourself, I could hardly have been more railroaded."

Albus chuckled.

"Ah, well, it could be worse for you." His eyes twinkled as she raised her eyebrows.

"Yes," she said, "yes, I suppose I could be accompanying Hagrid on an excursion into the forest to look for a marauding dragon. Oh, don't look at me like that, you know full well how I despise these gatherings, where you are forced to be polite to people that no one can stand, and schmooze with officials who don't look past the amount of skin that society dictates one should put on show..." Minerva took a deep breath, as Albus chuckled.

"Goodness, my dear... Now I come to think of it, Auror Woodloud _does _seem to show a lot of interest in my outfits-"

Minerva's mouth thinned and she stood, gathering up her papers.

"Oh, Minerva, come now. Forgive an old man his foibles. And besides," he said, a little louder at her retreating back. "I don't believe you are quite personally acquainted with Filius yet. His outing may surprise you."

There was something in his tone that gave Minerva pause. She turned to face him, and it was then, she remembered when she reminisced, that she began to suspect his twinkling eyes, his corner-mouth grin, of being a forewarning.

"What?"

"You can't always judge a giant on size alone. I am merely suggesting that you... ah... look on the bright side. You may enjoy yourself. Of course, it may be utterly tedious, but I am ever the optimist."

And with that, before Minerva could respond, Dumbledore had vacated his seat and swept past her, giving her elbow a light squeeze.

"Sleep well, Professor."

She stared after him wondering, not for the first time, how and why he had the knack of leaving her feeling like she was missing something.

She awoke on the morning after Hallowe'en to an incessant tapping. It took her a while to gather herself enough to get out of bed and open her window to allow the handsome snowy owl entry – the previous night had seen her summoned out of her quarters more than five times, with students thinking, originally, that Hallowe'en would be the perfect night to carry out whatever daring plans they had drawn up, and inevitably ended up in some sort of situation requiring her presence. She untied the envelope, allowing the owl to take flight, and wrapped herself in her tartan dressing gown before sitting down with a steaming mug of coffee to open it.

_Minerva,_

_Cordially requesting your presence at Masquerade this evening. I shall await to escort you at the Entrance Hall, 9pm. Dress comfortably. _

_Yours,_

_Filius._

Minerva frowned, turned the parchment over in her hand, and frowned some more. _Dress comfortably? Masquerade?_

Considering that the owl hadn't hung around, she assumed that Filius was not expecting a response, so asking him to expand was out of the question, but she wouldn't allow herself to envisage the embarrassment she would cause herself should she not have some sort of insight into what the evening would entail, and as reneging on the bet was not an option, she would have to, she thought exasperatedly, question Albus.

As it happened, she did not see the Headmaster until dinner in the Great Hall; she had not seen hide nor hair of Professor Flitwick at all, which was unusual, even though it was a Saturday. She took her usual seat next to Dumbledore, and waited for him to relax into his food until she began, with a feigned nonchalance, "I'm to be attending a Masquerade with Filius this evening."

Dumbledore looked up from his pie and turned slightly to face her.

"Oh, how delightful!"

"Maybe so. Have you ever attended with him?"

At the time, she convinced herself it was her overall agitation that imagined the smothered chortle before he answered.

"I haven't, no. Although Filius seems to enjoy them immensely; attends the specials every year, barring life or death situations. Always returns in high spirits."

"So you don't know what I should wear? Where I am even going?"

She decided to forego the question of food; she had eaten a small portion of her dinner, realising that she wasn't particularly hungry and so it wouldn't matter either way should she be required to sit down for a meal.

"I couldn't begin to hazard a guess, my dear. I'm sure Filius has thought of everything already, and I'm sure he wouldn't coerce you into anything completely against your will."

His eyes twinkled fiercely as she battled to form a coherent response, but before she could, he rose to his feet.

"I must reply to the latest owl from the Minister before the hour's out. I wish you a marvellous evening, Minerva." He swept from the table and out of the hall, and by the time she had tried to decipher his responses for any hidden hints, she had left herself only a half hour before she was due to meet Filius.

Minerva strode to the Entrance Hall with her customary determined gait, customary severe bun, in her dress robes-for-all-occasions: deep forest green, almost black until shown under certain lights. She greeted Flitwick's enormous smile with a nod.

"Minerva, you look elegant as always. The evening does require a certain dress code, but as we are both somewhat adept at Transfiguration, I thought that it'd be preferable for us to change after leaving the castle. Shall we?"

Minerva exited the doors, waiting for Filius to reset the overnight security on the doors before heading for the gates.

"Am I too forward in asking where we are going?" she asked as they stopped just beyond the gates.

"All in good time."

"Albus tells me you attend every year?" she ventured.

"More or less," he answered, still smiling, before he took her arm and apparated away.

They emerged in a deserted alleyway, a light breeze wafting smells of numerous cuisines, which, once Minerva's stomach settled, she assumed must mean they had travelled to a busy town.

"We're in Glasgow," Filius offered, correctly interpreting Minerva's straining neck. "And now, if you are agreeable, we shall get changed ready for the evening. Don't worry," he added, as she looked around dubiously. "This alley is quite deserted. It's been designed for this exact purpose. People apparate here, get changed and enter the club. You'll never bump into anyone else; it's designed for complete anonymity. Now..."

He looked Minerva up and down, nodding and humming occasionally.

"Did you say... club?"

"Yes," he answered absently, before he gave a final nod and met her eyes, his sparkling bright even in the dim lighting. "Yes, it is a club. Nothing like the Ministry shindig modus operandi you were undoubtedly expecting. It's somewhat outside convention, but I have a feeling that you'll enjoy. All I ask is that you give it a chance; if you are completely horrified, then I'll release you from the terms of the bet, and you can be on your merry way."

Had Minerva been of weaker character, she would have balked. Instead, she took a deep breath, gathered her Gryffindor bravery – or foolishness – and closed her eyes.

"Do your worst."

As she felt the signature magic of transfiguration engulf her, she fought the urge not to open her eyes; she felt much more air around her body than she had in her robes, and felt somewhat more constricted than under the flowing material. She waited until Filius pronounced himself done, then, like ripping a Flobberworm from one's finger, quickly opened her eyes.

As her vision adjusted, she looked down and around in slight confusion, and when she encountered the Charms professor, she didn't stand a chance at suppressing her gasp. He chuckled, apparently completely at ease and amused. She couldn't seem to keep her mouth closed as she looked him up and down, from the leather mask covering half his head down to his mouth, with slits for his eyes and nose, to the collar and attached leash around his neck, the two strips of leather, like braces over his shoulders, attached to the tightest pair of leather shorts she had ever seen, not that she had much to compare it to. Slowly, she looked down on herself, extending a leg, then the other; an arm, then the other; then running her hands along her torso. Filius conjured a full length mirror so that she could examine herself properly. She stepped cautiously forward, not quite accustomed to the thin heel on the thigh high black leather boots she wore. She was clad in a one-piece, akin to a bathing suit; a thin collar around her neck, leading down to netting covering her breasts, leading to patent leather material held together by a corset-like zig-zagged tie down the middle, flaring out at her hips into shorts that just kept her modesty covered – which, she thought as she moved, was barely covered itself with some sort of lace. She turned, hardly shocked to find the piece backless, just covering her bottom. Her hair had been loosened from its bun; it now hung in a high ponytail, setting off the angles of her face and making her now deep purple lips even more prominent. Her eyes were smoky through the mask, which tapered into sharp points capped with silver. She held her gloved hands out in front of her, clasped at the wrist with a silver clip and fitting like a second skin, completing the look.

Filius' chuckle brought her crashing back to their reality. As if seeing the terror unfolding in her mind, he laid a soothing hand on her arm, the effect he was going for somewhat lost given his appearance.

"No one will recognise you, Minerva. It's a glamoured fantasy club for muggles and magic folk. It runs all year long, but they hold special events for, well, special events."

"A glamoured fantasy club?"

"Yes. Mainly S&M, Dominatrix, that sort of thing, but anything you wish, within reason, can be arranged. No one will know who you are, neither inside the club nor once you leave."

Minerva looked herself up and down in the mirror once more, and despite herself, felt a small thrill run through her.

"You brought me here to see me squirm?"

Filius' face instantly sobered.

"No Minerva, I brought you here thinking that you may enjoy. And it _was _a bet; you would have been expecting a visit to the opera or some such thing. I wanted to present something new to you... assuming, that is, that you haven't been before?"

Minerva's blush told him as much.

"If you don't want to go in, Minerva, you don't have to. But no one will know."

"You'll know."

Filius' smile returned.

"And what do you think I'm-" he pointed up and down himself, "-going to do? Blackmail you?"

Minerva did give a wan smile at this. She was quiet for a few moments, before she met his steady gaze.

"Let's have a drink first."

They finished off a glass each of whiskey that had appeared on a table in front of them – an added quirk that Minerva had to admire – and before she could change her mind, she stood.

"Lead the way, then."

Filius looked up at her as he held out his leash. She stared blankly at him.

"Let's go then, Mistress."

Her jaw dropped again.

"You cannot be serious?"

He held her gaze so that she understood that he was not playing some sort of joke on her.

"I... I mean..."

Filius thrust the leash into her hand, and began to walk, giving her no choice but to follow lest she choke him.

"It won't be all night," he said, as they stood in front of a plain black warehouse door. "You can hand me over at some point."

Minerva's eyebrows creased. Evidently, she thought, she had abandoned all reason, suspended any visage of reality. There was no other explanation for why she followed Filius through the doors; why she held tightly to his leash as though it kept her grounded, nor why there was a sudden sway to her hips that she had never before employed.

The doors closed behind them, and a sensuality washed over Minerva, so intense and unlike anything she had experienced before. She felt herself relax as she followed Filius down a dimly lit corridor until they stood at the entrance of a huge room, the sight of which made her stop dead and caused poor Filius to be yanked backwards and land on his bum on the floor.

"Sorry," she muttered distractedly as she stared around the room. It was dark, but ornately decorated; plush velvet curtains of deep colours hung from the ceilings, draped across partitions; torches floated above; tables lay dotted about, covered in sumptuous food, and various... implements... that Minerva couldn't begin to identify. As soon as they stepped in, they were surrounded by people of all descriptions. A few bowed low to her and a few of Filius' height leered and made to paw at him, their hands never quite touching him. They made their way steadily to the other end of the room, Minerva taking care not to stop dead again, even though she felt the urge a few times.

"Filius!" she hissed when they had come to a stop. "Is that a... _a giant?!"_

Filius didn't need to look to see what she was gaping at; in one corner of the room sat a twenty foot giant, who could have been mistaken for a tree. All around her there were people and elves and dwarves, taking it in turn to climb upon her and feed her. Some were massaging various parts of her body, pleasure evident on their faces.

"Oh yes," he answered calmly. "I told you; anything you desire may be achieved here, for anyone."

She plucked a goblet off a tray that was hovering in the air in front of her and drank deeply, then decided that she had better sip, given that she hadn't a clue what would be expected of her through the evening. She allowed the bass to drum into her, felt her mind begin to float along with the beat, and knew then – or would have, if she had been consciously paying attention to her stream of thought – that she was staying.

"Filius," she murmured, looking at him standing straight-backed, unmoving. "What's expected of me?"

"Anything you want, my dear," he answered almost lazily.

It was this, perhaps, that frightened her – maybe not frightened, but filled her with a knot of anxiousness around which fluttered a thousand pixies – the most; she had never before been told that she could have anything she desired; never been in any situation where she could both have control and lose it completely. Her eyes kept straying to the giant, who was now, for want of a better word, being pleasured by two men. She shuddered involuntarily and looked around again, trying to take everything in. She focused on what appeared to be the designated dance floor where two women danced together, one dressed similarly to her and another seemingly just draped in an almost see-through satin sheet, the leather one's hands roaming all over the other, who seemed in a trance-like state, head thrown back, long red hair swaying down her back. Minerva stared, transfixed, as their moves became bolder, as gloved hands slipped beneath a fold in the white sheet. Her breathing became shallower as she followed the movements of an arm, the pulse at an exposed neck-

She started as a softly cleared throat sounded at her shoulder.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, as her eyes travelled a woman inches taller than herself, wearing the same style boots and mask but not much else except silver studded straps covering her breasts and between her legs. The woman gave a nod, and reached out to almost lovingly caress Minerva's arm, until her fingers reached Filius' leash.

"May I?" the woman breathed.

Minerva momentarily panicked, whether for her or Filius she wasn't sure. Her grip tightened on the leash, and she flicked her eyes to Filus, who she was surprised to see was staring resolutely at the floor. She quirked an eyebrow, and deciding that he would have piped up if he disapproved, she placed the leash into the woman's hand, who smiled as she wound it tightly around her hand before turning away from Minerva.

"Come!" she barked, sharp enough to make Minerva jump. As they walked away –well, Filius trotting to keep up as the woman had him on a short leash – she could have sworn she heard her add, "And that's the last time you'll be hearing that for a while!"

Now alone in the hall, Minerva again became unsure, nervous about what she was doing here and what she was supposed to be doing. Her eyes wandered over to the giant again, like watching a Quidditch collision she couldn't resist peeking, but decided that, though she had never envisioned herself in a situation like she was in the first place, she would rather forfeit a bet involving her and Dumbledore himself than involve herself in _that _spectacle. But then again, she thought as she finished her drink and her eyes once again wandered to the two women who were now floating across the dance floor, each to their own.

She placed her empty glass on a table and without a real conscious though began to follow the women, sticking to a path just off centre of the dance floor. She was stopped by a man, eyes masked and wearing an open leather waistcoat and loose black suit trousers, who lightly touched her wrist.

"You look in need of company," he said, his deep voice bringing goose-pimples to her skin. She opened her mouth to respond, craning her neck slightly to see where the two women were heading. He followed her gaze, and chuckled.

"Ah, but I see the type of company you desire. Please, allow me to escort you."

She nodded almost dumbly as he took her arm and they made their way towards the door that the women had disappeared through. The other side of the door, a house elf bowed low, holding up a plate full of different shaped, brightly coloured sweets. The man paused to peruse before picking up one yellow and one purple sweet. He offered the purple one to Minerva who eyed him and it suspiciously.

"Ah, but it is your first time?"

Again she nodded. He beamed, his teeth sparkling on his darkened rugged face.

"This," he said, holding the sweet to her lips. "This is a relaxant. Much like alcohol, but without the chemicals. It just loosens your inhibitions, without losing your mind."

Minerva shrugged internally. In for a penny, she thought. She allowed him to press the sweet to her lips, his warm finger lightly brushing her lips. He took her hand again and led her past a set of squashy looking sofas, to another door, where he stopped.

"This is where I let you go, _Madame,_" he whispered into her ear. She involuntarily leaned into him. She wasn't sure if it was the sweet working already, or whether it was the feeling of not wanting to enter the unknown alone – whichever it was, she gripped his arm and turned her face marginally towards his.

"Please," she whispered almost touching his lips. "Please, stay."

He inclined his head and opened the door.

"Shall I lead the way?"

* * *

Inside the room was much like the main hall; warm, with deep colours and shadows flickering in the firelight. She was glad of her mask as two sets of eyes turned towards her, one belonging to the satin-clad woman with the extraordinary long red hair, the other, having removed her own mask, pierced her with deep brown eyes, and smiled lazily. She made her way over to Minerva and her companion, grabbed the lapels of his vest and pulled him towards a concealed door at the back of the room. Before Minerva could protest, it had closed behind him and the woman was standing in front of her, too close, her breath tickling Minerva's ear and the scent of her hair filling Minerva's nostrils.

"He can stay there and watch," the woman breathed, her hands barely touching as they caressed up and down Minerva's arms, the sensations causing her skin to goosepimple.

There was so much Minerva wanted to ask: How? Was there anyone else? What was she to _do?_ But she was led to an armchair and gently pushed into it, where she found her arms full of soft warm skin and cool pieces of leather.

"I saw you watching," the woman whispered into her ear, her tongue lightly touching Minerva's earlobe.

Minerva gasped as a hand wandered along her arm and torso.

"Jen likes to be watched. And I like to finish what I've started. So you be patient, and sit there... And _watch._"

With a fleeting kiss that Minerva struggled to prolong, the woman got up and swayed back to her partner - Jen, Minerva absently thought - who smiled as she embraced the other and caught Minerva's eyes.

She - Minerva desperately wanted a name, but found herself rendered speechless at the display - slowly began to undress Jen, drawing her hair over one shoulder and slipping her flimsy garment down it, until only their bodies held it up. Stepping back, she allowed it to pool on the floor, leaving Minerva with an unencumbered view of an expanse of milky skin. Her eyes focused on Jen's breasts, watching her nipples pucker as the other woman's hands circled them, before pinching them suddenly, causing both other women to gasp, Jen's head flying back, hair falling down her back, neck exposed, which the leather woman took full advantage of, kissing, biting, and licking, until Jen took her head in her hands and dragged her to her lips for a bruising kiss which left Minerva almost squirming in her seat.

They moved backwards slowly until Jen's knees hit the bed situated in the middle of the room and she fell onto her back, the other woman straddling her. Jen reached up to undo her waistcoat, freeing breasts that were a perfect handful for the redhead, until the other pinned her hands to the bed.

"Please, Miran," Jen pleaded, to which the other woman - _Miran_, Minerva silently repeated - chuckled.

"Always so impatient," Miran replied as she stood in front of the bed. She reached underneath her tiny flared skirt and pulled down her knickers, which were much the same design as Minerva's, and no doubt Minerva's were now just as soaked as those lying on the floor. She shrugged out of her waistcoat before stalking back onto the bed on top of Jen, and allowing the other woman to palm her breasts, bringing a look of ecstasy to both their faces.

Miran began undulating against Jen's stomach, until she took one of Jen's hands and pushed it underneath her skirt, between their bodies. There were three audible gasps, and as Miran started to move against Jen's hand, she turned her head slightly and caught Minerva's slack-jawed gaze. She held eye contact up until the moment that her climax peaked. Head thrown back, hips jerking, both bodies covered in a sheen of sweat glistening in the light, Minerva knew that she had never seen anything so erotic. By the time that Miran recovered, Minerva's knuckles were white from the death grip she had on the arms of the chair, her thighs clenched tightly together.

Miran smiled lazily as she slid off Jen onto her knees on the floor, pulling the redhead closer to the edge of the bed.

"How would you like it," she whispered as she reverently stroked each of Jen's legs, "if this was you?"

Before Minerva had a chance to reply, Miran lifted herself slightly and dragged her fingernails the length of Jen's body, causing her to arch and hiss, before she buried her face between Jen's legs, lifting the woman further up off the bed. Mian seemed to know exactly what she was doing, as it was minutes before Jen was pushing her head away, gasping.

A strangled gasp brought both women's focus onto Minerva, who by now was visibly shaking in her chair. Miran crawled over to her, and covered her hands with her own.

"I said watch," she whispered. "I never said you couldn't move." And she guided Minerva's right hand down between her legs, where Minerva hesitated only briefly before palming her own cunt and pushing two fingers into herself to try and relieve the ache.

Her hips jerked forward to meet her hand movement, seeking more pressure. Miran covered Minerva's hand with her own, and with a grin pressed. Minerva's eyes widened as her body immediately reacted to the pressure on her clit. She stiffened, then violently flew back into the chair, seeing nothing but a blinding white behind her eyes. Miran stroked her legs until Minerva relaxed, pulling her hand swiftly away from her cunt, fingers glistening. She panted, eyes wide as they focused on Miran, who was smiling lovingly at her.

"And now, we dance."

She stood and pulled Minerva up with her, leading her towards the bed. As Minerva's world came back into focus, she blushed at the moisture she felt as her thighs rubbed together, and as her gaze found the entrance to the concealed room, her step faltered.

Miran turned to her and took her in her arms, one hand loosening her ponytail, the other cupping her back. Hair loose, Miran began to massage Minerva's scalp, causing her to moan in appreciation and bare her neck to the other woman's lips.

"If you want to stop, you can," she murmured. "But only you know who you are. And there is no shame here. And besides... they do so love a good show, as much as you will love to give it."

Despite her lifetime primness pricking at her, Minerva wondered how on earth she could stop even if she wanted to. And if she were completely honest, which she may as well be at this point, the thought of him – of _anyone _– watching her like this, made her clit throb all the more. She had never felt so... wanton. And wanted. And if people _were _watching, then... Well, she hoped they enjoyed as much as she was. And with this uncharacteristic thought, she allowed herself to be pulled onto the bed by Jen, where her corseted outfit was slowly unlaced and peeled from her, leaving her in boots and mask and a wet trail of kisses from her collarbone to her pubic bone.

Half an hour later, as she writhed on the bed under the combined ministrations of Jen and Miran, Minerva couldn't have cared less if she had been on the staff table at Hogwarts during the Hallowe'en feast, she just needed...

"There!" she gasped, as Miran pushed another finger inside her and began to rapidly flick them. She arched off the bed as Jen equally ravished both breasts with mouth and hand, tongue flicking in rhythm with Miran's fingers. Minerva's head lolled to the side, and when she saw through heavily lidded eyes Jen's other hand working furiously between her own legs, she flew over the edge, hands fisting the sheets and Jen's full, thick hair, trying to keep a grip on something as her breathing stopped and her brain short-circuited.  
She took huge gulps of air when her body finally quietened, and took a few more moments still to open her eyes. The sight that greeted her when she did was breathtaking; Jen was lying next to her, Miran straddling her face and cupping her own breasts, chest heaving and a look of pure abandon on her features. Jen's hand was still between her own legs, and Minerva gingerly rolled more onto her side, no longer mindful of the mask that now completely slipped off her face and stuck in her slightly matted hair. She covered Jen's hand with her own, and Jen moved her hand so that it covered Minerva's, encouraging her in her exploration. She had thought she was in heaven when she had finally caressed and kissed the women's breasts, but now she was overcome completely with sensation; the slick softness that coated and enveloped her fingers was exquisite, and she relished the feeling of spongy walls contracting around her, pulling her in further. Her own thighs clenched as aftershocks rippled through her, fuelled by the desire she felt at touching Jen. She lost track of time, of surroundings as she felt Jen's orgasm building. It was totally different to just watching; it was as if she was connected through her hand buried inside Jen; she mirrored every moan, felt every thrust, until the three of them cried out, Miran collapsing onto the bed and Jen and Minerva crushing each other in a fierce kiss and embrace, Minerva's hand still wedged between them, something which she was reluctant to rectify.

Minerva still felt a fire within her, but she was, for now, sated, body and mind thrumming contentedly as the three lay tangled together, the occasional languid stroke of an arm or leg the only sign that any were still conscious.

* * *

Minerva moaned as she shifted. Her body ached in places that she didn't know she had, and it took her moments to remember why and where she actually was. She cracked her eyes open, glad of the soft glow of the torches, and looked around until movement at the end of the bed caught her attention. Miran stood there, putting the final touches to her mask.

"You're awake!" she smiled, leaning over the bed to kiss Minerva, who self-consciously made to cover her body. Miran laughed softly. "You are exquisite," she brushed her hand along Minerva's cheek, who was now mortified to realise that she no longer had her mask. As if reading her thoughts, Miran explained. "I can see your face, but I have no idea who you are. And even if I had some inclination, I wouldn't remember outside of these walls; only our experience, and how beautiful you are. Your friend will explain further if need be."

With a last glance at the two figures on the bed, Miran quietly left the room. Minerva sat up and spent a long moment looking at the dozing form of Jen. She was undeniably attractive, but Minerva never would have thought... not even up to the point when she followed them to the room with... her blush deepened as she remembered the man that had escorted her there, and his vantage point on the scene. She hastily gathered her outfit and wrestled herself into the skimpy item, intending to leave as quickly as possible. She scraped her hair back into a ponytail and was just about to leave when she flicked her gaze back to the bed. Her heart skipped beats at the sight of Jen, a sheet barely draped over her legs, hair mussed and an arm flung over her eyes. She slowly walked back to the bed and sat on it, her hand hovering over the woman's hip.

"I don't bite," Jen muttered, causing Minerva to jump.

"Sorry, I just..." Minerva awkwardly trailed off, feeling more and more self-conscious.

Jen propped herself up on an elbow and caught Minerva's hand, gently stroking her digits and wrist.

"I hope I see you again at some point. I felt like you, the first time. But it's worth it, is it not?"

Minerva said nothing as she allowed Jen to kiss her hand before releasing her. She smiled hesitantly, then threw caution to the wind before she could stop herself and kissed the woman thoroughly. She pulled away and made her way to the door, blushing. With one last look at the twinkling stunning green eyes, Minerva left, and found her way to the alley she arrived in clearly signposted, smiling all the way.

* * *

Minerva remembered literally bumping in to Filius in the alley and allowing him to transfigure their clothes back to normal. Although he looked distinctly the worse for wear, he still found the energy to tease her, and laugh when she responded crossly but gave herself away with a soft smile and a finger lightly tracing her lips. They returned to the castle together, to be greeted by a beaming Albus, who never usually had any business being out of bed before sunrise.

"And you, my dear? Did you enjoy?" he enquired after Filius had turned off to his rooms. Practice would come, and she would be able to answer his question - the same one every time - with not even a tremor to her voice, if a residual twinkle in her eye, but for now, Minerva turned scarlet, tripped over what she had intended to be a monosyllabic response, and fumed as Dumbledore chuckled in an all-too-knowing way before patting her on the elbow and bidding her a good couple of hours rest before breakfast.

As Minerva adjusted her mask and palmed her whip in the very same alley thirty years later, with Filius grinning by her side, she felt, as always, inordinately indebted to the abysmal Quidditch team of nineteen fifty-eight, and completely satisfied with the knowledge that no one would ever know how much it had taught her.

* * *

**Well, this one sure did run away with me... over triple the word count I intended. But I hope it's worth it.  
I did intend to have Filius as a bigger part of the whole scenario, but I have problems writing "straight sex" anyway, and I just couldn't get myself to write half-goblin S&M, even if my imagination, scarily enough, did go there! So it started as a crack fic idea, but I think it's turned out slightly different.**

**Review please?!**


	9. Chapter 9: 30: Afternoon Delight

**30. Starland Vocal Band: Afternoon Delight**

**MM/HG**

* * *

_Minerva McGonagall really is a pro._

Of course, Hermione had always known this; the attention she commanded in a classroom was rivalled only by Severus Snape, but the respect that accompanied it was something second only, perhaps, to that accorded to Albus Dumbledore. Yes, from the outset Hermione had known that Minerva McGonagall was nothing if not professional, but here, now, she had to admit that the woman was even more astounding than she had ever credited her with: presiding over a governor's meeting with all of her usual aplomb, showing no hint that she had no control over the contraption nestled between her legs, buried inside her and cupping her clit.

Knowing the Headmistress slightly more intimately than the rest of the gathering, though, Hermione was privy to the slight changes in demeanour that alerted her to the abnormality of the situation; the way Minerva had bitten the inside of her cheek when she'd unthinkingly sat and crossed her legs; how in the last ten minutes since Hermione had flicked her wand, one of Minerva's hands had remained rigid in her robe pocket; and, if one looked particularly closely, the slight intermittent movement of Minerva's robes from the waist down as her thighs clenched around the sex toy.

"Headmistress, we really do need to discuss the tradition of first years arriving by boat; in the last five years there've been increasing numbers of misdemeanours resulting in, at the very least, sodden students having to be assisted to the Castle."

Hermione smothered a grin as Minerva barely resisted rolling her eyes at the ancient wizard speaking.

"Mortimus, must we go through this every year?"

Mortimus Halfyard turned to the portly wizard that had spoken, his jowls flapping as he gathered steam.

"We will go through this as many times as necessary until the risks to the health and safety of students are addressed! I will not stand by and watch as–"

BANG!

Everyone around the table jumped and exclaimed, the noise stifling Hermione's guffaw. The governor's faced the Headmistress, who was only narrowly avoiding turning a brilliant shade of scarlet.

"Headmistress?"

Minerva slowly, almost painfully, withdrew her hand from the table top where she had slammed it. She turned slightly so that she could glower at Hermione, who continued to stare too innocently back, before smiling tightly at the rest of the room.

"Mortimus, I have no doubt that your own experience was both icy and rather traumatic, but I can honestly assure you that we have much more stringent measures in place in the last hundred years, not least of which ensures that no student can be pushed from a boat, and that even if by some glory mission of touching the giant squid a student leaps from a boat of their own volition, they are guaranteed not to get very far."

Minerva's voice, though never wavering, had begun to creep up in volume and speed, so that when she finished Mortimus was staring at her in mild shock, and the rest of the governors chuckling quietly. Hermione tickled the tip of her wand lightly with two fingers. Minerva's grasp on the back of her chair became white-knuckled.

"I will speak to Madame Hooch regarding the issues surrounding flying off school grounds, Peeves stays, Mr. Filch is to receive a raise in his salary with the express instruction that it not be spent on implements of torture regardless of what country they may be legal in-" at this, although Hermione continued to 'stroke' Minerva, the Headmistress did manage to direct a meaningful look at Tobias Flint, who had the grace to look sheepish. "So, if there's nothing else...?"

"Minerva, I just wanted to-" Professor Sinistra broke off alarmed as Minerva turned her head sharply to look at her. "I'm sorry," Sinistra whispered, an automatic response to the almost pained glare bestowed upon her. "Are you ok?"

Minerva's features instantly softened, although Hermione could still see the trace of desperation in her whole being.

"I'm sorry, my dear. It's been a trying day and I suddenly had a vision of the next meeting I have scheduled with Mr. Filch and Peeves. What is it you wanted?"

Aurora Sinistra's face morphed into one of sympathy. "Oh, I just wanted to discuss with you the findings of the muggle education report compiled by the ministry; I was interested to find out your opinion. I myself was quite amazed at some of their insights, though not necessarily in a positive way on times. There were a few things that I thought I could trial in my classes... Ingenious, really, the way that astronomy correlates in both ways of life, and it was just that..."

Minerva flicked her eyes to Hermione, a mere blink to most, but Hermione easily read the nervousness and hint of challenge there. The room gradually emptied until only the three women were left. Hermione lazily got to her feet and stretched, her wand hand rotating slowly. Professor Sinistra turned to smile at her, and Hermione beamed back as she noted Minerva's almost lock-jawed stance.

"I was quite interested in that report too, Headmistress. Do you think you have time to have a quick dissection of it?"

Minerva pursed her lips, looking for all the world as though she were about to deal with a couple of miscreants.

"My apologies, ladies; I fear Mortimus' dawdlings have already left me behind schedule, and today leaves me very little leeway. Some other time, perhaps?"

Aurora nodded. "I understand. I can only imagine being in your position, honestly!"

"Mm, me too," Hermione chirped in.

"You should all be so lucky," Minerva griped, causing both women to chuckle for very different reasons.

Aurora left Minerva no choice but to walk them to the door. Hermione stood close enough to hear the barely contained pants Minerva was making at the movement. They stopped at the doorway, where Aurora turned to Hermione.

"Happen that you have a little spare time today for a bit of discussion on the topic?"

Hermione opened her mouth, an impish desire to answer in the affirmative, but then she caught sight of Minerva's expression, carefully levelled at her out of Aurora's line of sight. She pasted an apologetic look onto her face.

"As it happens, there are a few matters I need to attend, and no time like the present. Half-term, but no rest for the wicked I'm afraid. Perhaps we could make time for a discussion during the next staff meeting before the children return?"

There was a palpable feeling of relief emanating from Minerva.

"Of course," Aurora replied. "I know how busy you both are. And it would give the rest of the staff a chance to read and contribute, too."

Minerva nodded, now holding the door open.

"Very well. Thank you, Aurora."

The tone of her voice left no doubt that the meeting was at an end. Barely giving Hermione a chance to say her goodbyes, Minerva briskly shut the door and whirled around so that Hermione was pinned against it.

"Goodness, Headmistress," Hermione breathed after Minerva released her lips from the rough kiss. "Anyone would think that you really do have a pressing engagement to get to."

Minerva captured Hermione's lips again, leaving them tingling.

"It _is _pressing, Governor. Anyone would think you had Unspeakable training with that sadistic side you have unveiled."

Hermione grinned.

"But you consented, Headmistress. Must I remind you of our... conversation?"

Minerva moaned at the though of it, her lips now resting on Hermione's neck.

"You caught me at a weak moment-"

"Though you must admit you felt a certain... thrill at the prospect of being pleasured in a room full of people, with nobody any the wiser."

Hermione managed to flick her wand, and Minerva's knees nearly buckled.

"You neglected to mention that you would be doing... that," she panted.

"Well, what is life without its little surprises?"

Hermione pushed away from the wall and reversed their positions, one thigh held tightly between Minerva's.

"But," she peppered Minerva with kisses. "I don't... want it... to become... an implement of... torture."

She held Minerva's head tightly in her hands as the toy began a rhythmic pumping action, its tempo increasing with Minerva's gasps.

"Gods Hermione, please!"

Hermione released her hold on Minerva's head to hitch up her robes and lavish attention on her breasts, her hands slipping underneath the elastic of Minerva's bra to the rock hard nipples just as the toy began to vibrate intensely.

Minerva ground down on Hermione's thigh, pushing the toy harder onto and inside herself. In moments, Minerva's body seized and convulsed erratically; Hermione covered her mouth with her own just as she cried out, until Minerva's hands stopped clinging to Hermione's back and began to pull at the fabric and push her away.

"Please... Oh, please... I can't..."

Hermione kissed her gently, lowering her thigh and stopping the movements of the toy. Minerva's jerky movements slowed until she was resting her head against the wall, her hands loosely held at Hermione's hips. Hermione slipped her hands from Minerva's bra and dragged them lightly down her torso until she reached Minerva's waistband. She caught Minerva's eye and smiled lovingly, before lowering herself to her knees and pulling Minerva's undergarments down. She placed a hand around the toy and gently pulled at it. Minerva gasped, her hips involuntarily bucking. Hermione continued to pull, agonisingly slowly, until Minerva's thighs clenched.

"Hermione, I don't think I can... Oh!"

Hermione pulled the toy completely out and, having thrown it aside, quickly replaced it with two fingers, which Minerva's muscles immediately contracted around. Hermione moaned as she watched her arm disappearing into Minerva's robes. It was an intensely erotic sight, with Minerva's hands fisting her own robe and Hermione's hair, repetitively chanting,

"Please... I can't... Oh, Hermione... Please..."

Minerva hitched her robe up, and with her other hand already tangled in Hermione's hair, she guided her head between her legs. Hermione, past the point of teasing, negotiated the bunched up fabric and ran her tongue through Minerva's lips before circling her clit. Minerva's fingers dug into Hermione's scalp as she flicked her tongue fast and hard, her fingers deep inside fluttering in tandem. Minerva held Hermione's head tightly as she undulated against her face, her movements becoming frantic, until she let out a guttural moan and Hermione's hand became soaked. She moaned appreciatively and tried to lap at the liquid, but Minerva forcefully pulled both her hand and face away. She held tightly to Hermione's face until they faced each other and they kissed, breathlessly; then her hands fell limply away, resting on Hermione's hips, her stomach fluttering, her breath coming in little pants. Hermione nuzzled her neck, a lazy smile on her face, ignoring for now her own desire to be sated.

Minerva looked around slowly, then shook her head in amazement as she caught sight of the toy, its butterfly and protruding phallic shape looking rather absurd against the ancient decor of the room.

"How very indecent."

Hermione laughed.

"And you, the pillar of society. You should be ashamed, taking your thrills in a room full of people in the middle of the afternoon. Hussy."

"And you have no shame. I can't believe we... _I_ did that!"

Hermione grinned.

"You were too stubborn not to," her voice took on a mimic, "'Of course I have enough self-control. Honestly, Hermione, I've been a teacher for nigh on six decades. Put me in any situation and I assure you that I can control myself.'"

Minerva mock glared. Hermione pecked her on the lips.

You enjoyed it, though."

"Mmm," Minerva gathered Hermione in her arms and held her close. Hermione's breathing quickened at their renewed proximity and her eyes fluttered shut. "So far, it's been quite a... delightful afternoon."

When Hermione's eyes reopened, they were standing at the foot of Minerva's bed.

"So far?"

Minerva raised her eyebrows and manoeuvred them onto the bed.

"Yes... So far."

_To be continued..._


	10. Chapter 10: 5: Justify My Love

**5. Madonna 'Justify My Love'**

**HG/MM**

Minerva McGonagall shot upright in bed with a gasp, eyes flying wide open and tremors running through her body. Still half asleep, she hastily shoved her hand into her knickers and pressed down on her clit, chasing the fast diminishing orgasm that had evidently been building in her dreams. She lay back down with audible frustration, her body shaking and aching yet decidedly unfulfilled. She decided, on slightly unstable legs, to get out of bed, knowing from previous experience that she would not have anymore peaceful sleep, despite it only being four am.

Having obtained a mug of black coffee, despite having a slight preference for tea, Minerva perched herself in the armchair facing the window in her small study, watching absently as the rain battered the trees and the window, shadows from outside mingling with those inside cast by the dying embers of the evening's fire. Her fingers alternated between tracing lines on her mug to lightly along her face as if they contained a ghost of a memory that she was slowly reliving.

"_I need you, Minerva!" _

_Minerva moaned as Hermione arched into her, her words shooting straight through Minerva, causing her to clench her thighs rhythmically. _

"_Where?"_

_Hermione fisted the duvet as Minerva's hand tickled down her side, resting for a moment on her pubic bone before repeating the action._

"_There... Here... Everywhere!" Hermione responded breathily, her hand now gripping Minerva's wrist, and first pressing Minerva's hand onto her breast, and then down between her legs._

_Minerva watched, enthralled, as Hermione writhed and gasped next to her, until her eyes flew open, then rolled back as her whole body stiffened, then jerked erratically before she went limp, still clutching Minerva's wrist, now to make sure that Minerva didn't put too much pressure on her swollen lips. _

_They were silent for a few moments, Minerva still drinking in every inch of Hermione's face; Hermione taking the time to restore her breathing before opening her eyes and smiling wearily. _

"_You're beautiful," they both smiled as they whispered the words simultaneously. Hermione gingerly reached across to tuck a lock of Minerva's now wavy black hair behind her ear._

"_I mean it, you know," she whispered, as if unwilling to break the tenderness that they seemed to be wrapped up in._

"_Mean what?" Minerva frowned, struggling to recall a conversation before they had retired to Hermione's bedroom._

_Hermione seemed to battle internally, before she took a deep breath._

"_I do need you."_

_Minerva seemed to freeze, inside and out. Her heart stopped for a few beats before resuming again at double the pace. She took a shaky breath._

"_I..."_

_Hermione smiled, and managed to look only a little sad._

"_It's ok. I don't expect you to say anything, or to feel the same. I just... wanted to let you know. I couldn't keep it in any longer."_

_Hermione turned onto her back, examining her toes in a concerted effort to appear nonchalant. Minerva sighed as she too shifted to lay flat on her back._

"_I never wanted you to need me, Hermione." _

_She sat up, rubbing her hands vigorously over her face. "It wasn't supposed to happen," she whispered, more to herself._

Minerva blinked, lifting her mug to her lips and appearing surprised when nothing came out of it. Looking at her clock, she was equally surprised to find she had sat an hour, unmoving, reminiscing about the events of the last few months, when she had sworn after a week of reproaching herself and rehashing her words to Hermione, that she would no longer do any such thing. She waved her wand idly, watched as steam once again rose from her mug... couldn't help comparing the colour to the pair of eyes that she longed more than anything would twinkle at her again.

"_This is ridiculous, Minerva!" Hermione fumed, pacing one side of her bedroom, as Minerva stood in the doorway._

"_No, what's ridiculous is the idea of you changing everything that you are and ever wanted, for me. I'll not have you sacrifice a life for me, Hermione."_

_Hermione let out a scream, tearing at her own hair as she did so._

"_Sacrifice?! What sacrifice?! I want you in my life, I want to be with you! You're the one asking me to sacrifice my happiness for... For what? A life _you _think I should lead? Who do you think you are?!"_

'Someone who loves you,' _Minerva thought to herself, but battled fiercely to keep that voice under control._

"_I'm sorry, Hermione-"_

_Hermione shook her head violently, holding up a hand._

"_No. No, you do not apologise to me." She walked over to Minerva, and took both of her hands. If she held them rather too tightly, Minerva hadn't the inclination to protest. _

"_Now, I love you, Minerva McGonagall, and I need you in my life. I'm allowed to feel like this: I'm a grown-up, and this isn't ancient times. I can't get enough of you, and there has not been, and I doubt ever will be, anyone else who makes me feel even a fraction of the way that you do, even if sometimes that means feeling infuriated beyond belief. I know you've got it into your head that you're being _'noble'_-" Hermione spat the word as though it was dirty, "-thinking that you're setting me free or Merlin knows what. You're presuming that I'm unfit to make my own decisions, that... that what? One day, in ten, or twenty years time I may want to, oh, I don't know, go on a week-long binge with the Holyhead Harpies and so you think you'd better _"set me free" _to do that now, before I feel caged? You've got some nerve, honestly! Why would I tell you I loved you, if it wasn't true-"_

"_Hermione," Minerva interrupted, gently squeezing her hands in return,' "I have no doubt that you love me-"_

"_Well, you must doubt my loyalty, then, because why else, when I say that I want to spend my life with you, do you insist upon pushing me away? Do you not trust me?"_

"_Of course I do, but you're so young, there'll be plenty-"_

_Again Hermione interrupted, this time with a good shake to Minerva's arms._

"_What about young people who start relationships, then? Lily and James? Harry and Ginny? Do you think they should have held off, seen other people, just because they were young?"_

"_Well no, but, you might meet someone else, someone nearer-"_

"_So might anyone in any relationship! Merlin, Minerva, if everyone went through life thinking like that, no one would ever start a relationship because of the 'what if's'!"_

_Suddenly, she let go of Minerva's hands and moved to softly caress her face. Her eyes and mouth smiled sadly._

"_If you don't want to be with me, Minerva, then that's fine, but please, don't make out that a relationship between us cannot happen because of anything to do with me. I know my own mind, and my heart. Do you?"_

_Minerva simply stared into Hermione's eyes, working to speak around the lump in her throat but eventually not finding the right words anyway. _

"_I guess that's my answer." And before Minerva could react, Hermione was gone, the echo of the front door opening and the accompanying _crack! _of apparition reverberating in Minerva's mind for hours._

Minerva started when something disturbed the surface of her coffee, surprised to find it had slipped from her cheek and was, in fact, the first in a small stream of tears. She wiped her cheek and stared at her hand in wonderment.

"What are you doing, you crazy old fool?" she muttered. Abandoning her coffee, she rose and went to sit at her desk, where parchment and quill sat waiting, as always.

_My Dear Hermione_, she began writing, before she looked up at the slowly rising sun, changing the foreboding colours of the Forbidden Forest outside into a far less daunting vision.

_As always, you are right – what gives me the right to question your mind and your feelings, to try to map out your life, when I have been stuck in sameness for so long that anything else is terrifying to contemplate? It is I who was unsure, rooted in my fears that you would soon lose interest. I know that this is not you. And even if it is, I cannot let this pass me by without at least trying to grab at it with both hands. _

_Oh, dear, that was a rather messy description, but I cannot banish the words. I've been doing that for too long._

_What I'm trying to say is... Forgive me? I fear that this won't be the last time I'll be apologising to you... if you'll still have me, of course._

_I need you._

_I love you._

_Who knows what the future holds, but for now – forever, I hope –I want to live my life. With you._

_Minerva. _

Minerva refused to read over her words, knowing that if she did they would end up in the fire, and she would waste another day contemplating. This was also why she decided that owl post was nowhere near fast enough for her needs. Hastily transfiguring her nightgown into a passable day robe, she headed towards the fire, knowing that Hermione hadn't yet sealed her off. She knew the witch to be an early riser, but counted on the fact that it was Sunday, and that the sun had only just risen to work in her favour, so that she could leave the note on Hermione's pillow, and wait.

* * *

_I think ... I _hope_ ... that I may just be back into this writing thing!_

_This chapter was originally posted as 'Chapter 8' under a different song title. After getting back into the swing of things, I've wiggled it about as new inspiration struck me for its original title "Need You Tonight (INXS)". "Justify My Love" seemed a more fitting title for this excerpt._

_As always, hope you enjoyed. And it won't be too long for a brand new chapter :)_


	11. Chapter 11: 28: I Want You

**28. The Beatles: I Want You**

**HG/MM**

Hermione Granger sat in the bar of The Hog's Head, curled in a ravaged armchair by the fire, engulfed in flickering shadow. The only movement she displayed was to bring her tumbler to her lips every few seconds for the last two and a half hours; when she had entered, she had thrown a bag of coins on the bar and instructed the barman to magically charm her whiskey and ginger to refill until the money ran out. The door to the pub seldom opened; it was, in part, why she had chosen the place. That, and the people that did frequent the place weren't the type to want to strike up general conversation. Everyone here held their secrets silent, and it was something she had found solace in in the last fortnight of her frequenting the place.

The heat from the fire diminished as the front door was held open for a few minutes, allowing the brisk November snap to invade the room. Hermione stiffened slightly as she lifted her glass and emptied it, the intense flickering of the flames hiding the tremor in her hand. Her eyes never wavered from the fire as a person took up residence in the armchair next to hers.

"Aberforth tells me you've been here a lot recently."

The accent was unmistakeable, but Hermione knew who had entered before she'd even spoke. Minerva McGonagall's distinct aura was imprinted on her soul, her smell as distinctive to Hermione as cut grass in the spring.

"Aberforth should have learnt from his brother's mistakes, and keep from meddling in other people's lives," she replied curtly.

Silence engulfed them. Hermione didn't have to look to know that Minerva was perched ramrod straight on the edge of the seat, her legs crossed neatly at the ankle, hands resting in her lap. It was customary, even if the situation wasn't. She didn't look when Minerva shifted to raise Hermione's glass; merely lifted an eyebrow when Minerva emptied its contents into a fresh glass, and watched as hers refilled.

_By all means, let me buy you a drink,_ Hermione thought, sarcastically, but bit down the urge to blurt it out. As much as she had been trying to avoid... this, she didn't want to be downright rude. She didn't know what, or where, she wanted to be, although at that moment in time, her head and her heart were warring between "anywhere but here," and "nowhere but here,"

"Decent choice in beverage," Minerva commented as she set her glass back down. Hermione smiled softly.

"I like ginger."

"And the alcohol?"

Hermione shrugged.

"That, too," she replied, vaguely, wary of giving anything away.

"Madam Rosmerta has rather decent wares there, you know,"

Hermione was aware of keen eyes searching her face. She closed her own momentarily, and steeled herself before finally looking fully at Minerva, willing her face not to flush, or her hand to shake as she brought her glass to her lips and took a determined gulp.

"And no end of questioning customers,"

She saw concern flash across Minerva's face, and tried to relax her posture.

"Peace is difficult to come by on occasion. Sometimes, I've a want to be alone with my thoughts. So I come here; it's nothing morbid."

She allowed Minerva to search her eyes, until it became too painful to bear. She sighed softly as she looked away, fingernails digging into her palms in an effort not to drag her hands over her face.

"What's going on, Miss Granger?"

Hermione froze momentarily, her eyes flashing with a myriad of emotions, before she shifted to the end of her seat and polished off the remainder of her drink. She stood, breathing deeply through her nose to keep herself from swaying, her body realising the effects of 30 galleons-worth of alcohol now that she was mobile. Hermione absorbed Minerva's face for a few moments, the strength of her gaze causing Minerva's brows to arch in surprise.

"Absolutely nothing... _Professor_. Enjoy your evening."

Hermione stopped dead a few hundred yards from The Hog's Head, dragging her hand over her face. She laughed ruefully as she turned to look at the building, squinting to focus clearly. In her haste to escape from Minerva, her need to try and release the pressure around her entire being, she had neglected to remember that she had rented a room from Aberforth, foreseeing her inability to apparate and not wanting to embrace the familiarity of anywhere else. She sank down onto a snow dusted wall and sighed, increasingly aware of the ice biting at her extremities, and her breath clouding in front of her face, her addled mind trying to decide what to do. She couldn't walk back into the pub, she just couldn't. She couldn't stay here; Minerva would no doubt pass her on the way out, and that would be just as mortifying as if she had just walked back in. But she couldn't go home; it wasn't yet connected to the Floo network, and she couldn't even begin to comprehend trying to apparate. She couldn't go knocking on anyone else's door, either; too many looks, and questions, when all she wanted was quiet. And warmth.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt something heavy drape over her shoulders, and a tingling sensation fill her with heat from her toes up. She whipped her head around, and stood as the three figures floating in front of her merged into one Minerva McGonagall.

She could do nothing but smile in thanks as she pulled Minerva's cloak tighter about herself.

"Warming charm," she muttered, lowering herself back onto the wall. "Anyone would think you were a witch."

Minerva smiled, sitting next to her.

"And anyone might think you were mad, sitting out here in such weather."

"I need the fresh air?" Hermione ventured, weakly. She sighed when Minerva's steady gaze didn't waver.

"Care to escort me to my room?" Hermione held her breath as soon as the words were out; she wasn't sure which answer she hoped for more, and was firmly berating herself for allowing the alcohol to loosen her barriers.

Minerva stood and took a few steps, waiting for Hermione to find her feet. They walked slowly, until Minerva turned into an alley off to the side of The Hog's Head and Hermione frowned, unsure whether she'd specified where she was staying.

Minerva quirked a brow as she stopped in front of a wooden door, which opened at her magical signature.

"Back entrance," she explained, as she stood to the side to let Hermione through. "Might have saved you agonising outside."

Hermione blushed, not missing the slightly hurt look in Minerva's eyes. She had to remind herself that this... none of this was Minerva's fault. How could it be, when she didn't have a clue?

"I'm sorry. About earlier. I'm being a bit of an arse. I just... Yeah. I'm being an arse. I'll get over it."

They trudged up the back stairs and Minerva waited for Hermione to find her room, her arm automatically shooting out to steady the witch as she stumbled over her feet.

"This is me," Hermione mumbled, shrugging Minerva's arm off under the pretext of scratching an itch. "Thank you, Professor. I'll be fine from here,"

Minerva frowned, trying futilely to catch the younger witch's eyes.

"Hermione?"

"Oh, yes. Sorry, your cloak," Hermione awkwardly unwrapped herself from the heavy material and bundled it into Minerva's arms.

"Hermione-"

"Please," Hermione murmured, her head thudding against her door. "Please, just leave. I'll be fine," She inwardly cursed herself for the lump in her throat, and the tears that she was rapidly losing the battle to keep at bay.

"Are you sure you wouldn't like some company? It's still quite early; perhaps I could fetch Mr. Potter, or maybe Mr. Weasley-"

"No!" Hermione squealed, almost flying through her door, causing Minerva to reach out and hurriedly step through the doorway to catch her.

Hermione looked up into emerald orbs, shaking her head.

"I can't do this," she whispered.

"Do what?" Minerva's tone of voice indicated her utter confusion. Hermione closed her eyes and took a steadying breath, before launching herself forward, lips clumsily crashing into Minerva's, hands moving to cup chilled cheeks. Minerva's eyes widened as she stumbled backwards with the force of Hermione's weight. Her arms automatically moved to Hermione's shoulders, but no sooner could she assert any pressure, than Hermione had wrenched herself away, pacing at the opposite end of the room.

"This!" Hermione waved her arms emphatically. "I can't keep pretending like it's ok to just be in your company without wanting more; I've tried! I keep trying to convince myself that all it'll take is time, but the more time passes the worse it gets!" She stopped her frantic movements long enough to take in Minerva's frozen stature, trembling fingers resting on her lips. Her wide eyes met Hermione's as the brunette stepped closer to her.

"I'm sorry, Minerva. But I want you; I want you so bad it's driving me mad!"

Seeing no forthcoming response, she stepped closer again, bringing her face only inches away from Minerva's. She gently grasped Minerva's wrist, bringing her hand away from her lips and intertwining their fingers, holding Minerva's hand between both of hers. She kissed Minerva's knuckles, then rested her forehead against their fist.

"I want you so much, it hurts. I've wanted you since before I can recall; I want you when I'm not with you, and then when I'm with you, I want more. I want all of you, Minerva. All of you. And it is... It's driving me completely insane. I can't be without you," she placed a kiss on Minerva's hand before letting it go, where it fell limply back to Minerva's side. "But I can't be with you, either," she finished sadly.

Silence engulfed them. Minerva's mouth opened, then closed again in a move that Hermione found absurdly funny, the adrenalin coursing through her sending her emotions haywire.

"So please," she began again, nudging Minerva by her shoulders. "Please, just go,"

When Minerva made no move to depart, Hermione grabbed fistfuls of her robes and shook her. "Please!" she begged, "Please go!"

Minerva took a step, as if unsure of her surroundings.

"I..." Minerva cleared her throat, her voice having become raw. "I can't just leave you like this!"

Hermione screamed in frustration, and once again brought her mouth crashing into Minerva's, their teeth clashing as Hermione manipulated their lips, nibbling at velvety skin, fingers digging into Minerva's hair. "You have to! Otherwise... Otherwise I won't be able to turn back."

"I..." Minerva moved slowly towards the door. She crossed the threshold, and they stared at one another for an endless moment, before, with a wave Hermione slammed the door in Minerva's face. The emotion she had been trying to contain burst forth; furniture flew and crashed, glass smashed and the walls shook as Hermione's magic reverberated through the room, until, exhausted, she slid down the wall and wept herself to sleep.

Minerva alternated between pacing the floor of her office and sitting in her wing-backed chair, staring unseeing into the dwindling fire. She couldn't sleep, and for the first time that she could recall in decades, she found the cosiness of her private rooms cloying. She poured a firewhiskey, polishing off a generous glass only to pour a second into the fire, the hissing and spitting setting her nerves on edge, serving to fan the simmering anger that bubbled inside her.

"How dare she?" she muttered as she paced, not for the first time trying to make sense of what had transpired, and more to the point, how she was reacting to it. "How bloody dare she?!"

_How dare she what? _Her mind questioned. _Kiss you? Or push you away once she'd done it?_

"Don't be so absurd," she snapped at herself.

"_I want you," _reverberated around her mind, driving her to distraction.

_Why did you let her kiss you?_

"I didn't have much of a choice!" she hissed.

_Twice?_

"I didn't know what was going on! I didn't ask her to bloody kiss me!"

_But you didn't ask her not to._

Minerva realised, with the dying down of her second narrative, that the room had gone eerily silent. She looked up to see most of the portraits gawking at her, and some obviously feigning sleep. She waved her hand irritably and ignored their cries of protest as they were unceremoniously ousted from their frames.

"She was drunk,"

_So what, it was just a game to her?_

Minerva's anger spiked.

"I don't know! Up until last night she was just a former student; an acquaintance! I've no idea how her mind works!"

_Well then ask her. And she's obviously been more than that to you for some time, otherwise you wouldn't still be stood here, several hours later, running it over and over. _

Minerva traced her lips again, unconsciously. At the time she had been shell-shocked, surprised at any sort of outburst from her former star pupil let alone one of such... emotional and physical vulnerability. But now that she had been rehashing the evening, over and over, she couldn't help but linger on the way that her heart had beat erratically when Hermione's lips had found her own, the way that her lips had tingled for a long while after. Minerva shook her head.

"This is ridiculous."

She summoned her cloak, palmed her wand, and with a crack! Disapparated.

Her enhanced hearing picked up a small groan from inside the room, and she knocked again, even more forcefully. When the door finally opened to reveal a rather bedraggled Hermione, Minerva didn't hesitate; she strode into the room, and after assessing the place for only a moment, waved her hand. The room restored, she perched on the sofa, eyes following Hermione as the woman shut the door and dragged herself towards Minerva, raking a hand through her hair but giving up when her fingers became tangled.

"What time is it?" Hermione rasped, throat sore from the seemingly endless hours of weeping.

"Five am," Minerva answered succinctly. In any other situation, she would have smirked at how Hermione's eyes shut self-piteously, but the swollen, bloodshot appearance of them discounted any mirth.

"Hermione, I need to know if you meant what you said, last night... earlier?"

Hermione leant her head in her hands.

"I am so sorry, Minerva... Professor. I'd had a lot to drink and-"

"I didn't ask about that," Minerva interrupted starchily, and Hermione flinched. "I asked whether you meant it."

Hermione sighed deeply. She couldn't lie to the other woman; she had neither the capacity nor the inclination.

"Yes," she whispered. "I'm sorry it happened... that way. If you were to find out at all, I'd have wanted it to be... different. And I am sorry. But yes; I meant it. Everything,"

Hermione waited for the rebuff; for the recriminations of practically molesting the esteemed Head of Hogwarts.

"Say it again,"

Hermione blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"What you said last night; say it again,"

Hermione's eyebrows shot into her hair. She wasn't sure exactly what was going on; she was certain Minerva wouldn't be as cruel as to mock her, but neither could she believe that this was some sort of go-ahead for a blossoming relationship. She tried to tread carefully.

"I was being a bit of an arse. I'll get over it,"

Minerva pierced her with a glare, then stood to leave. Hermione's heart thudded in her throat, and she quickly stood, quashing the wave of nausea that rolled over her, to grab Minerva's wrist before she got too far.

"Please," she said softly. "I don't mean to be obtuse. I just don't know what's going on here, and I don't want to say anything that'll make you walk away from me."

Minerva pursed her lips. She was angry with herself, now; angry for insisting upon coming here now; angry for putting Hermione through more emotional turmoil when she wasn't even sure herself what she wanted to be going on here. Despite herself, she sat back down. Hermione hesitantly let go of her arm.

"I want you, Minerva McGonagall. I want you so bad, that it's driving me mad. Not being with you is driving me insane, but being with you, knowing that I'll never have all of you, is too unbearable. I want you; I think I've always wanted you."

Their eyes searched each other's for endless moments, until Minerva's jaw slackened almost imperceptibly. She allowed trembling fingers to reach out and take Hermione's hand. Hermione smiled gingerly.

"This is driving me mad," Minerva whispered, so quietly that Hermione wondered if she had meant to voice it aloud.

Steeling herself, Hermione lifted Minerva's hand to her lips, and kissed her palm, before wrapping Minerva's fingers around it. Minerva stared hard at their twined hands for a long moment, before abruptly standing. Seeing Hermione's heart crash in her eyes, Minerva pulled her gently to her feet, and cupped her under the chin until Hermione reluctantly met her gaze. A trace of a smile lingered in the crinkles of Minerva's eyes as she tenderly stroked Hermione's cheek.

"I want you to be sure," Minerva whispered, smiling gently at the shock registering on Hermione's sleepy face. She steadied the fluttering in her own chest before she continued in a more sure tone. "I want you to be certain... That you want _me_, for all that you think I am,"

Hermione opened her mouth, but Minerva silenced her with a finger on her lips.

"And that is why I think you should take me for dinner. I'll await your owl."

Minerva waited until she was sure that her words had sunk in; until a smile began in Hermione's eyes and spread to the corners of her mouth. Hermione nodded, her lips puckering minutely to kiss Minerva's finger. Minerva stepped away slowly.

"Madness," she muttered under her breath, bringing a shaky grin to both their faces. She reached the door and locked eyes with Hermione once more.

"I've never wanted you more," Hermione breathed, and Minerva's breath hitched.

"Until tonight," she nodded, and shut the door. Her index finger came to rest on her lips, and despite herself, she smiled.


	12. Chapter 12: 63: Sexual Healing

**63. Marvin Gaye, 'Sexual Healing'**

**HG/MM**

She ran through the ruins, stumbling often on the still smoking piles of rubble, her body moving on instinct as opposed to visibility. She took the remaining stairs two at a time, heart hammering tenfold as she reached the remains of the stone gargoyle guarding the Head of Hogwarts' rooms. She tore up the steps and burst through the door, stopping dead at the entrance to the untouched office. She stood, frozen, trembling with adrenaline as the figure standing next to the desk whipped around to face her. They appraised each other silently, drinking in each other's appearance until a soft, almost inaudible word ruptured the moment.

"Hermione," Minerva McGonagall whispered, and Hermione snapped out of her trance, flying across the room to collide with the opening arms of the Transfiguration Mistress. Hermione clutched desperately at Minerva's tattered robes, filling her fists with material as she buried her face into a clammy neck.

"Minerva," she choked out, pulling back to frantically search Minerva's streaked face. "Thank God, thank God you're ok. I didn't... I couldn't find you... Couldn't see you after... I didn't know where... I knew, but I couldn't... Not without seeing you."

Minerva smiled a watery smile in response to the tear-filled stammering. She placed a hand upon Hermione's cheek, thumb stroking softly.

"I'm ok. I merely sought a momentary respite. And you?"

Minerva held Hermione at arms length, assessing the state of her appearance.

"I will be," she leaned into Minerva once more, this time tenderly cupping her arms around the taller woman and squeezing gently, inhaling the scent of the woman that still lingered beneath the smoky stench of battle. "I've missed you. So worried," she breathed into Minerva's cheek.

Minerva tightened her hold around Hermione, closed her eyes as untamed curls tickled her face. She left the ghost of a kiss above Hermione's ear as she heard a muffled sob. She pulled back slowly and cupped Hermione's cheeks, her thumbs gently wiping away the tear tracks.

"I'm here. We're safe," she smiled, eyes twinkling as she saw an answering hope dawn in Hermione's deep soulful eyes.

"We're safe," Hermione repeated, and at Minerva's nod she launched forward, lips crashing against Minerva's, pushing the other woman against the desk as her hands wound into Minerva's loosened bun. Minerva's lips parted as she groaned. Hermione took the opportunity to explore Minerva's mouth with her tongue, until Minerva wrenched herself away, panting.

"Hermione," she said, voice raspy. "We can't-"

Hermione cut her off, insistent hands winding around Minerva's neck as she peppered her face with tiny kisses.

"Please," she breathed between kisses. "Please. We're safe. We're alive... Please,"

Any lingering vestige of propriety Minerva had, crumbled as she gazed into tear-filled, hopeful orbs. She wiped Hermione's cheeks, then slowly leant in to capture her lips in a gentle kiss. Their lips parted, and both gasped as their tongues met, dancing around each other's mouths. Teeth met lips, sucking and nipping, until Hermione pulled back with a moan to fill her lungs with air. She rested her forehead against Minerva's, running her fingers over Minerva's neck and watching with rapt fascination as Minerva's chest rose and fell rapidly. Pulling back slightly, the air left her lungs as she took in Minerva's mussed hair, her flushed cheeks and moist, swollen lips. Minerva shucked her outer robe, and yanked the zipper on Hermione's jacket, trembling hands becoming tangled up in material and burning skin. Hermione latched on to Minerva's neck, sucking and biting the skin she revealed as she pulled at her underdress. With a frustrated groan she pulled back, and fished in the bundle of clothing at her hips for her wand.

"Divesto," she murmured, and watched in awe as Minerva's garments tore down the middle, allowing her to push them off her shoulders.

"Oh, God, you're hurt!" Hermione exclaimed, fingers brushing around the edges of a tear in the side of Minerva's abdomen. Minerva hissed, pulling Hermione's fingers away from the dried blood and up to her mouth.

"Tis just a scratch," she breathed, drawing Hermione's fingers, one by one, into her mouth, not breaking eye contact with the other witch.

Hermione moaned at the hot wetness enveloping her fingers, sending her brain into override. Again, she wound both hands around Minerva's neck and pulled her in for a ferocious kiss. Minerva pulled at Hermione's top until, almost growling, Hermione yanked it over her head along with her bra. The cool air that hit her was immediately dispelled by Minerva's hands palming her breasts, her nipples puckering to the point of pain.

"Oh, God," Hermione whimpered. "God, Minerva, you have no idea how much I need you."

Minerva's eyes turned to night. She boldly took Hermione's hand and led it between them. Hermione's knees almost buckled at the wetness she found soaking the cotton underwear.

"Yes," Minerva whispered, huskily. "Yes, I do."

Pulling her hand away, Hermione fumbled with the zip of her jeans before stumbling out of her shoes and kicking away the clothing. She placed her hands on Minerva's waist, and before Minerva could move to reciprocate the touch, Hermione lifted her onto the edge of the desk. A muttered spell caused all the objects on the desk to whoosh to the floor and Hermione pushed Minerva back until she was lying on top of the other woman, her tongue immediately finding the groove in her collarbone. Minerva arched into her touch, her bent leg coming into contact with Hermione's cunt. Hermione shifted, her legs spreading further and her own thigh pressing against Minerva's core. They rocked together, legs rhythmically clenching and flexing, eyes rolling at the intense heat and wetness that spread over their thighs. Hermione reached to find a nipple and pulled it into her mouth, biting down. Minerva cried out, hands grabbing at Hermione's ass as she arched. Their movements became frantic, hands roaming everywhere they could reach, fingernails leaving scorch marks, hair sticking to glistening skin. Their eyes met as they panted in sync, one set of hands now linked behind Minerva's head.

"I... Oh... so much..." Hermione gasped.

Minerva reached for her lips, biting down on already bruised skin. Hermione froze, a silent scream drawn out by Minerva's tongue, until she bucked her hips, once, twice, three times. Her muscles went limp, her thigh trapped between Minerva's tightly clenched ones until she too cried out her own release into Hermione's shoulder. They lay prone for several minutes, skin glued to sticky skin, their breaths evening out as the heat between them cooled. Hermione summoned the energy to lift her head from Minerva's shoulder. Minerva smiled gently at her, reaching up a hand to peel back Hermione's now frizzy hair from her cheek. Hermione captured Minerva's lips in a soft kiss, ghosting her lips over cheekbones and chin.

"Well," she sighed, dreamily. "Here we are."

"Yes," Minerva whispered. "Here we are."

"Alive,"

"Alive."

Hermione reached a trembling hand to trace Minerva's features.

"Together?"

It came out as more of a question than the statement Hermione had intended it to be. She saw the myriad of emotions in Minerva's eyes, and tried not to reflect the negative in her own. She held her breath as Minerva seemed to be formulating the best response. Following her instinct, she chastely kissed Minerva's lips.

"The future will play itself out in due course. But for now?"

Minerva relaxed, pulling Hermione close. Choosing to ignore the fact that they were spread along the desk in the Head's - her - office, she shifted so that they lay side by side, the remnants of her clothing providing some shelter from the cooling wood, her hand stroking Hermione's side, until the younger witch reciprocated.

"Aye. Together."

* * *

_Thanks for all the lovely reviews, they mean a lot._

_I have put up a list on my profile of all the songs that I haven't currently written for. If you have any ideas/requests/ anything you'd like to see incorporated, drop me a PM, I'll be more than happy to discuss and have your input :)_


	13. Chapter 13: 15: How Many Licks

**15. Lil' Kim feat. Sisqo: How Many Licks**

Minerva pinched the bridge of her nose for what she feared wouldn't be the first time that evening. Pomona smirked at her from her stuffed armchair, whilst Poppy merely looked on, eyebrows raised.

"Don't look at me in that tone of voice," Rolanda huffed. "You were the one who just dumped the bombshell, run off like a Horntail was on your ass and refused to see us for weeks after. You've given me far too much time to stew over this for me to let you off now."

Minerva rolled her eyes.

"I dropped it into conversation because I didn't see why it would be such an important development for you to process. And I wouldn't have had to "run off" if you would keep better control of your Quidditch teams; poor Dempster didn't leave the hospital wing for several weeks."

"What, and you had to sit by his bedside that entire time, personally mopping his brow?"

Again, Minerva's eyes turned heavenward.

"Being Headmistress comes with a set of responsibilities that I am unable to timetable, Rolanda,"

"Yeah," Rolanda smirked. "That, and having a hot young bird waiting at your beck and call,"

Minerva turned red.

"She is not at my beck and call. Far from it. If anything, I find myself wishing to bend over backwards to accommodate her. And don't call her a bird," Minerva added, realising that Rolanda could run with the connotations of what she had just said, and hoping that she could deflect it. Taking in Poppy's reddening cheeks, she realised that she'd have no such luck, and took a hearty sip of her Scotch.

"Hmm, I bet your animagus traits allow you to accommodate her very well whilst bending over backwards!"

Pomona guffawed, both at Rolanda's innuendo and at Poppy sinking further into her chair. It always amused her no end that the no-nonsense Mediwitch could be so shy about discussing intimacies outside of her professional duty. She shoved the bottle closer to Poppy.

"For goodness sake, have another drink," she prompted. Looking at the glint in Rolanda's eyes, she added, "It's going to get worse before it gets better."

Rolanda reached for the bottle and took the liberty to top up everyone's glass.

"Pomona! There's nothing bad about making sure our friend is completely satisfied by her girl. Merlin knows we've waited long enough for this to happen, it's only right that we get the goss!"

Minerva stared blankly.

"The goss?"

"Yes, you know, gossip. Down with the kids, Minerva. I thought you'd be way ahead of me on that front!"

Minerva stood, smoothing out her robes.

"Ladies," she began. "Some other time."

Rolanda held up her hands as Minerva made to leave.

"Ok, ok, I'm sorry! Low blow, too soon! Come and sit, and I'll try to restrain myself."

Similar looks of disbelief crossed the other three women's faces, but nevertheless, Minerva folded herself back into her chair and drank steadily. Holding out her glass for a refill, she pinned Rolanda with a look.

"For every inappropriate comment you make, each one of us has to drink. Our moods tomorrow are utterly dependent upon you; bear that in mind."

Before Rolanda could respond, Poppy chimed in.

"There'll be no Pepper-Up for you, either, so don't go forging ahead anyway thinking it'll be worth it!"

Pomona merely smiled, and filled her glass in anticipation.

* * *

They managed a half hour of anything but Hermione-centred conversation, until, blushing, Pomona admitted that not a week past, she had shared 'a moment' with Filius in the library, the threat of Madame Pince being but a few bookcases away adding to the thrill.

"In all honesty, it's quite boring without the little ones here; until we can get away ourselves, we have to do something to pass the time."

"Then read the bloody books, not use them as illicit cover!" Poppy squeaked. Pomona winked.

"There's a time and a place for reading, Poppy, m'dear. That wasn't it."

"What, the library?" Poppy deadpanned.

Minerva laughed. Drawing Rolanda's attention back to her.

"What about our little bookworm, then, Minerva, eh? A bit of unrestricted action in the restricted section? Or is the library too sacred a place for you both?"

Even Poppy snorted at that, although she promptly groaned as Minerva glared until they all raised their glasses.

"Oh, please," Rolanda huffed, taking a hefty swig anyway, "if _that _was inappropriate, then it's a bloody good job you've got a younger model to liven you up a bit."

She rolled her eyes as Minerva kept up her glare, but gave in and drank some more along with everyone else.

Minerva waved her hand and the bottle flew over the table, filling up glasses as it went. She took a dainty sip, and as she replaced her glass on the table, casually remarked,

"And what on earth makes you think that _I'm _the one that needs livening up?"

Pomona guffawed as Rolanda looked suitably awed.

"So what're you saying, _Professor_? Been hiding your light under a bushel all these years, have you?"

Minerva gave a clipped shrug.

"Hermione… she brings things out in me that I never thought possible," Minerva's face had softened, and Pomona 'awwed'.

"McGonagall's in lurrrve!" she jested, gently.

Minerva merely smiled.

"Or just getting laid real good!" Rolanda piped up. Everyone groaned as they all forced down another drink.

Rolanda looked around and shrugged.

"May as well be in for a Galleon as a Knut. Hangover's a hangover. And you can't make a statement like "she brings things out in me that I never thought possible" without expecting me to question it, Minerva!"

Poppy sighed.

"Must your mind always be in the gutter? Perhaps Minerva's just innocently remarking on the positive changes Hermione has had on her life as a whole."

Noticing Minerva's slightly blushing face, Poppy retreated back behind her drink.

"Oh, for the love of… You're all as bad as each other!"

* * *

They worked their way steadily through another bottle of red, peppered with small measures of firewhiskey whenever Rolanda decided to be particularly wicked. For Minerva's part, she took pity on the rest of the faculty that would have to deal with the four of them the next day, and so she caved on a few occasions and answered Rolanda's none-too-subtle enquiries as haughtily as she could manage under an increasingly reddening face and a slight slur.

Pomona sat, staring incredibly between Poppy and Minerva, whilst Rolanda, intrigued, leaned forward in her chair.

"You… you can do… _that_?" Pomona asked, head whipping between the Mediwitch and Headmistress. Minerva bit her cheek as Poppy rolled her eyes.

"_She _no doubt can. I wouldn't recommend you try it, Pomona. Please. Or you!" she added hastily as Rolanda's eyebrows shot up. Poppy's head hit her hand as the thought of what she might have encountered in her Hospital Wing the next time Rolanda went out "on the pull" as she called it.

"I am a Transfiguration Master," Minerva responded, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling, or blushing at the particular memory of what exactly ensued once she, as Rolanda had so sensitively put it, "grown a pair". "There are many things I can do to various body parts. That being one of them. I can't deny that it's… enjoyable,"

Pomona let out a breath.

"That's…"

"Amazing!" Rolanda finished, eyes glued to Minerva's crotch.

Minerva crossed her legs. "I can assure you, that it isn't there now, if that's what you're looking for,"

Rolanda waved her hand dismissively.

"Never mind you… can you teach me?!"

Poppy groaned. Minerva laughed.

"perhaps it is best if you stick to what you're best at, dear."

Now Rolanda broke out into a wide grin.

"Ah, yes. That. So, now you're a fully fledged member of the Pussy club, in action not just animagus, tell me… How many licks does it take to bring her to her knees? Because, I mean, if you can grow a cock, surely there must be something… cat-like about that tongue that works wonders, too?"

Minerva arched her eyebrow, and sent a single measure of firewhiskey flying towards everyone. Rolanda laughed, Pomona turned a little green, and Poppy knocked it back, trying to rid her mind of the image of her boss and long-time friend that was disturbingly morphing in her head into something she hadn't the inclination to analyse.

"Ok, ok!" Rolanda finished her drink, then promptly refilled it. "How many to turn you into a complete animal, _Professor_?!"

Rolanda winked as she polished off her drink, letting Minerva know that the comment was completely in jest. Minerva smiled as she, too, finished off her drink. She got to her feet as Rolanda followed suit, pulling Minerva into a firm, if rather unsteady, hug.

"I'm glad you're happy," Rolanda whispered, squeezing once before letting go and wobbling towards the door.

"Come on, Pomona, I'll escort you to your chambers,"

Pomona smiled at Minerva - the one in the middle - and waved her hand as she stumbled into Rolanda, mumbled a thanks, and held on tightly as they left Minerva's rooms.

Minerva rolled her eyes, but inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. She knew she was yet to have the sober, are-you-sure-this-is-the-right-thing from Pomona which would inevitably follow after her three-day hangover, but she was immensely relieved at how relaxed they had all been about who, exactly, she was pursuing a relationship with, and though she would never admit it out loud, thankful for Rolanda's blessing, which always came in some form of ribbing. She smiled as her attention turned to Poppy, who looked like a bobbing duck on the sofa. Minerva removed Poppy's glasses, causing the other woman to stir and smile lazily.

"I'm going to transfigure the sofa for you," Minerva whispered, concentrating more than usual, and using her wand as opposed to the wandless magic that would have come with ease, before the last bottle. Poppy kicked off her shoes and pulled a blanket over her, squinting to make out Minerva.

"The's jus' one queshyn I wanna answer to, 'Nerva," she drawled, as Minerva bent down to place a glass of water on the side table.

"Yes?" Minerva asked, eyes sparkling some more at her friend's state.

"Yeah, s'mthin you never answered earlier, 'n' I wanna know, y'know, if i's good f'r you,"

Minerva held back a smile as Poppy unceremoniously 'oofed' her way comfortable. Minerva bent down to Poppy's ear.

"As many licks as we can take," she whispered.

Poppy went completely still and, assuming she was dead to the world, Minerva somewhat unsteadily made her way out of the room. Just before she clipped the door to her bedroom shut, she was surprised to hear a wail, then muffled speech, as Poppy turned her head into the pillow. Stopping momentarily, she laughed heartily as she heard Poppy wail, imagining the mortification riddling her body.

"Yes," Minerva answered the question that Poppy had actually intended to ask, as she walked away, not having the heart to further embarrass the Mediwitch. "Yes, McGonagall is in love."

* * *

**:)**


End file.
